"Of course it fucking matters!" he exclaims as his hands fall on Geralt's shoulders and shove as a way to scold him, but of course Geralt doesn't relent. Bloody brick wall, Jaskier would consider it sexy if he wasn't so furious right now. That's what his scent settles on, anger and sorrow. "I hate it when you talk like this! Just because you are capable of taking pain it doesn't mean you should!"

Deep breaths, he needs to take deep breaths. And a pillow too, he could do with one right to throw at this stubborn wolf's head. Maybe he should stuff that pretty mouth with soap...

Focus, Jask, focus. By the gods, this is the worst way to have such a serious conversation. Standing awkwardly in the springs while Eskel is waiting for his brother... Jaskier makes a mental note to have a proper chat later in bed. Hopefully once his emotions calm down he'll be more successful at it, too.

"Remember back in Gildorf when I jumped off the alderman's window when he found me with his daughter and I sprained my ankle? You scolded me to hell and back for getting hurt over something so foolish. Well, my dear, this is the same. Yes, it is, don't even try to argue. Besides..." He cups Geralt chin, letting his wet thumb brush the witcher's lips. "Who says I want the fangs gone for you to bite me?"