The hand on his elbow startles him and Jaskier can't help jumping at the touch as the cape slides off his hands. He blinks at the man in front of him as his mind slowly comes back to reality, the sounds and smells of the bar helping to remind him where he is.
"...Geralt."
Right, this is Geralt. His new friend. An extremely masculine man, a classic mountain hermit, buffy and manly but still capable of reading Oscar Wilde, staying friends with his ex/baby mama and hanging out with a queer person without making an ass out of himself (well, Geralt does make an ass out of himself often, but not in the meaning this line of thought is going for). All values he's passing on to his daughter as well.
A cowboy with pierced nipples and a gentle soul - that's how you bring tradition into modern times.
"Sorry you had to see that," he finally says after a pause to put himself together. He turns to look at the brothers to indicate the apology goes for all of them. "I promise my shows don't usually end like this, I'm more of fun kind of bloke."
It's an attempt at humor, but his smile is weak. Jaskier isn't the type of person who hides his emotions behind some mask: he wears them proudly in his sleeve and makes everyone around him know exactly how he's feeling at all times. If he's angry or sad? Well, then any ear is good enough to hear his whining or his ranting. Some times both at the same time.
There's an exception to his, and that's when something that shouldn't affect him does. Being hurt by bigotry gives the assholes power, and he hates it. So much. What happened to sticks and stones, after all? There are two fancy Youtube buttons hanging on the walls of his living room that show how he doesn't need this guy and his company, he's proud of them, of what he's achieved. And yet...
Rubbing his fingers is a normal nervous habit of his, and doing that right now makes him find a piece of the card still sticking to his hand. Jaskier looks at the floor, at all the white bits on it, and gets an idea. He crouches to start picking the card pieces and, hating the silence as always, he starts filling it as well.
"I never thanked you properly, Geralt. One shouldn't have to be grateful for bloody human decency, but here we are, I guess." A sigh before he continues. "You know I recommended your ranch on social media as a great spot for dates, and I know many couples have visited since then..." Queer couples, it goes unsaid. "They all came back very satisfied with the experience. So yeah, thank you. For the safe space."
Not all the card pieces are picked up, and that's fine, he doesn't need them all. Just enough for his little plan. Jaskier stands up and puts them on the table, forming a circle with a piece that has the company logo right in the middle of it. He reaches inside his vest to take out his phone and takes a picture of this collage - now he's extra aware of the possibility of a bomb exploding if he posts it on Twitter with a cheeky caption.
Respect doesn't make history.
To post or not to post? Fuck, this is going to bother him all night. And if he stays and drinks, with the brothers or with his friends, he'll end up doing something stupid, he knows it. After putting his phone away, he turns to Geralt with an apologetic expression on his face, voice sincere as it can be when he speaks.
"I truly wanted to stay and chat but... I think I should leave now."
If he gets home soon, it may be just enough for a decent time difference with England for a call. His sister is always good at helping him stay grounded.
no subject
"...Geralt."
Right, this is Geralt. His new friend. An extremely masculine man, a classic mountain hermit, buffy and manly but still capable of reading Oscar Wilde, staying friends with his ex/baby mama and hanging out with a queer person without making an ass out of himself (well, Geralt does make an ass out of himself often, but not in the meaning this line of thought is going for). All values he's passing on to his daughter as well.
A cowboy with pierced nipples and a gentle soul - that's how you bring tradition into modern times.
"Sorry you had to see that," he finally says after a pause to put himself together. He turns to look at the brothers to indicate the apology goes for all of them. "I promise my shows don't usually end like this, I'm more of fun kind of bloke."
It's an attempt at humor, but his smile is weak. Jaskier isn't the type of person who hides his emotions behind some mask: he wears them proudly in his sleeve and makes everyone around him know exactly how he's feeling at all times. If he's angry or sad? Well, then any ear is good enough to hear his whining or his ranting. Some times both at the same time.
There's an exception to his, and that's when something that shouldn't affect him does. Being hurt by bigotry gives the assholes power, and he hates it. So much. What happened to sticks and stones, after all? There are two fancy Youtube buttons hanging on the walls of his living room that show how he doesn't need this guy and his company, he's proud of them, of what he's achieved. And yet...
Rubbing his fingers is a normal nervous habit of his, and doing that right now makes him find a piece of the card still sticking to his hand. Jaskier looks at the floor, at all the white bits on it, and gets an idea. He crouches to start picking the card pieces and, hating the silence as always, he starts filling it as well.
"I never thanked you properly, Geralt. One shouldn't have to be grateful for bloody human decency, but here we are, I guess." A sigh before he continues. "You know I recommended your ranch on social media as a great spot for dates, and I know many couples have visited since then..." Queer couples, it goes unsaid. "They all came back very satisfied with the experience. So yeah, thank you. For the safe space."
Not all the card pieces are picked up, and that's fine, he doesn't need them all. Just enough for his little plan. Jaskier stands up and puts them on the table, forming a circle with a piece that has the company logo right in the middle of it. He reaches inside his vest to take out his phone and takes a picture of this collage - now he's extra aware of the possibility of a bomb exploding if he posts it on Twitter with a cheeky caption.
Respect doesn't make history.
To post or not to post? Fuck, this is going to bother him all night. And if he stays and drinks, with the brothers or with his friends, he'll end up doing something stupid, he knows it. After putting his phone away, he turns to Geralt with an apologetic expression on his face, voice sincere as it can be when he speaks.
"I truly wanted to stay and chat but... I think I should leave now."
If he gets home soon, it may be just enough for a decent time difference with England for a call. His sister is always good at helping him stay grounded.