When Priscilla leaves, both of Geralt's brothers' heads turn immediately towards him. Eskel's eyebrows are making a steady climb towards his hairline, questions written all over his face, while Lambert's giving him the same unconvinced expression that he had when Geralt told him that he isn't trying to fuck Jaskier. Geralt gulps down half of his pint-- this is actually pretty decent beer-- and when he lowers the glass again, all he says to the both of them is a growled, "Don't."
Lambert rolls his eyes so hard that he moves his whole head with it, like Geralt's the one being unreasonable here. They're the ones reading too much into this-- he's just helping out an... acquaintance, that's all there is to it. He's not trying to get into Jaskier's pants, and that's not how things work, anyway-- Jaskier isn't a fucking vending machine that he can insert enough kindness tokens into to make sex fall out.
Also, he doesn't fuck men. That's important, too.
Thankfully, he's saved from having to continue this conversation when the lights dim and Jaskier comes out onto the stage, dressed up in some kind of folksy costume that, presumably, fits the theme of whatever he's performing. It is, as Ciri would say, extra as hell, but that's apparently part of Jaskier's brand.
As ridiculous as it is, Jaskier looks like he's in his element from the moment that he sets foot on the stage. A showman from start to finish, charming his audience before he even starts the performance with a smile and a wink. There's something low and intimate in his voice when he talks that makes it sound like, despite the fact that you're in a room full of people, he's only talking to you.
Then he starts singing. Geralt doesn't recognize most of the songs, and only bits and pieces of some because of what he's heard Ciri play in her bedroom, but Jaskier is... good. He doesn't know much about the technicalities of music, but Jaskier has a voice that can go from lovely and sweet to deep and intense, has range and depth. He can carry a song with just his voice alone, and sometimes does so, to good effect. Geralt makes sure that he doesn't just sit there and stare at him for the whole set, because that would be weird; he takes the empty pint glasses up to the bar for refills and tries not to think about how Jaskier sings symphonies and sweat and sex and sin.
When Jaskier finishes his whole set and comes out from backstage, there are fans waiting for him, the crowd modest but enthusiastic, eager to get pictures and autographs with him. He goes back to his group of friends after that, the one that has the friendly blond from earlier, and Geralt figures he should tell his brothers to pack up and head out. Jaskier'll go off with his friends for some celebratory drinks, and Geralt can tell him that he saw him perform sometime later. Maybe he'll send him a text or something tomorrow. He opens his mouth to tell them to go when he sees Eskel's eyes looking past him, and then Jaskier's there in front of the table with half of his beer sloshed over his hand and a bright smile across his face.
Jaskier starts talking and, in true Jaskier fashion, doesn't stop talking, going fast enough that it's almost impossible to get a word in edgewise. Eskel, since he's the only one of the brothers who managed to learn some manners, takes the musician's hand when he offers it to shake.
"I'm Eskel, this is Lambert," he says. "You did good. Put on a real nice show."
"You look like you walked off the fucking set of Braveheart," Lambert chimes in, because providing unwanted opinions is his greatest talent in this life. Geralt kicks him in the shin under the table. "Ow, fuck off, he does."
That leaves Geralt to make some kind of commentary on the performance, because everyone else has and technically he's the one that Jaskier invited. Something appropriate that isn't the choker you're wearing makes me keep staring at your neck or you have a very pretty mouth or your hands are very distracting. This is a much more difficult task than it should be.
"It was good."
Okay. That's not a glowing review or anything, but no one expects anything lengthy out of him. It'll do, right? This is fine.
Lambert rolls his eyes again. "Yeah, he liked it, so sit down already."
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Lambert rolls his eyes so hard that he moves his whole head with it, like Geralt's the one being unreasonable here. They're the ones reading too much into this-- he's just helping out an... acquaintance, that's all there is to it. He's not trying to get into Jaskier's pants, and that's not how things work, anyway-- Jaskier isn't a fucking vending machine that he can insert enough kindness tokens into to make sex fall out.
Also, he doesn't fuck men. That's important, too.
Thankfully, he's saved from having to continue this conversation when the lights dim and Jaskier comes out onto the stage, dressed up in some kind of folksy costume that, presumably, fits the theme of whatever he's performing. It is, as Ciri would say, extra as hell, but that's apparently part of Jaskier's brand.
As ridiculous as it is, Jaskier looks like he's in his element from the moment that he sets foot on the stage. A showman from start to finish, charming his audience before he even starts the performance with a smile and a wink. There's something low and intimate in his voice when he talks that makes it sound like, despite the fact that you're in a room full of people, he's only talking to you.
Then he starts singing. Geralt doesn't recognize most of the songs, and only bits and pieces of some because of what he's heard Ciri play in her bedroom, but Jaskier is... good. He doesn't know much about the technicalities of music, but Jaskier has a voice that can go from lovely and sweet to deep and intense, has range and depth. He can carry a song with just his voice alone, and sometimes does so, to good effect. Geralt makes sure that he doesn't just sit there and stare at him for the whole set, because that would be weird; he takes the empty pint glasses up to the bar for refills and tries not to think about how Jaskier sings symphonies and sweat and sex and sin.
When Jaskier finishes his whole set and comes out from backstage, there are fans waiting for him, the crowd modest but enthusiastic, eager to get pictures and autographs with him. He goes back to his group of friends after that, the one that has the friendly blond from earlier, and Geralt figures he should tell his brothers to pack up and head out. Jaskier'll go off with his friends for some celebratory drinks, and Geralt can tell him that he saw him perform sometime later. Maybe he'll send him a text or something tomorrow. He opens his mouth to tell them to go when he sees Eskel's eyes looking past him, and then Jaskier's there in front of the table with half of his beer sloshed over his hand and a bright smile across his face.
Jaskier starts talking and, in true Jaskier fashion, doesn't stop talking, going fast enough that it's almost impossible to get a word in edgewise. Eskel, since he's the only one of the brothers who managed to learn some manners, takes the musician's hand when he offers it to shake.
"I'm Eskel, this is Lambert," he says. "You did good. Put on a real nice show."
"You look like you walked off the fucking set of Braveheart," Lambert chimes in, because providing unwanted opinions is his greatest talent in this life. Geralt kicks him in the shin under the table. "Ow, fuck off, he does."
That leaves Geralt to make some kind of commentary on the performance, because everyone else has and technically he's the one that Jaskier invited. Something appropriate that isn't the choker you're wearing makes me keep staring at your neck or you have a very pretty mouth or your hands are very distracting. This is a much more difficult task than it should be.
"It was good."
Okay. That's not a glowing review or anything, but no one expects anything lengthy out of him. It'll do, right? This is fine.
Lambert rolls his eyes again. "Yeah, he liked it, so sit down already."