For a moment, Geralt thinks that his offer of a ride is unwanted-- Jaskier looks at him with dumb surprise, giving him nothing more than a flat 'what'. That's not exactly an auspicious beginning, and he's about to tell him that it's fine if he doesn't want it, he just wants to make sure that he makes it home safely, when the musician jerks himself out of his mute state and accepts. He accepts quite vehemently, agreeing to meet him in the parking lot after he gets his things and says good-bye to his friends. Which is fine, of course-- obviously he'll need to get his guitar, and it only makes sense for him to talk to his friends before he leaves, so that they know that he's gotten a ride home. Being responsible and whatnot, not letting friends wander off drunk into the clutches of unscrupulous men.
Whatever strange looks Eskel and Lambert are throwing his way are quickly diverted by Jaskier's enthusiastic good-byes; he grabs at their hands and they allow it mostly due to surprise, a little bewildered by the rapid-fire thanks and requests to talk to him on social media and ride with him at the ranch and god knows what else. Eskel takes it best, just pats Jaskier's hand and says he's sure he'll see him around, while Lambert looks at the musician like he's grown a second head.
He shakes a finger in Lambert's face and tells him to confess to his friend. Lambert tells him to go fuck himself. Eskel kicks him underneath the table, but Jaskier seems completely unfazed by the response and rushes off to continue his farewells, his mood improving considerably from five minutes ago.
"Give me my keys," he says to Eskel, and his brother hands them over.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" he asks, and Geralt gives him an incredulous look in return.
"I think I can handle driving him home."
Eskel frowns, but he doesn't get a chance to give whatever lecture he's gearing up for, because Geralt grabs his pint, downs the rest of it, and heads out to the parking lot to wait for Jaskier. He stands next to his bike, a black roadster-style motorcycle that he's had for years, a good and reliable machine. He gets a map pin drop while he's waiting-- the location of Jaskier's apartment, he assumes-- and checks the map to see what the fastest way is to get there at this time of night. He realizes, as he's working out the best route, that Jaskier may not have been expecting a motorcycle but rather his truck, and not everyone likes the idea of riding on one. But then the door opens and Jaskier walks out, and he seems thrilled when he sees that Geralt's standing next to a motorcycle.
"Hm," he says, because yes, this is his bike, he's not just standing next to some asshole's motorcycle. He digs through his saddlebags for his own helmet and the spare that he keeps just in case, and tosses that one over to Jaskier. Nobody rides on his bike without proper headgear, for obvious reasons.
He gets on the bike and pushes the kickstand up with his heel, keeping the machine upright so that Jaskier could get on easier. There's enough space behind him for a passenger, if said passenger doesn't mind getting close to his back.
"Get on," he says, and when Jaskier gets himself onto the motorcycle, he'll reach down to show him where to put his feet so that they don't drag or get burned by the tailpipe. Most people, he'd just tell them what to do; he takes Jaskier's ankles in his hand and moves it to where they need to be, and it's usually a pretty slick move with women. Always worked well, touching them while they braced against his back, easy to explain away if they aren't interested and part of the lead-up if they are. For Jaskier-- well, he really just doesn't want the guy to burn himself.
It's a good night for a ride, and once Jaskier's tucked up against his back, Geralt kicks the bike to life and starts on the route to his apartment. It'll take a good twenty minutes to get there, which isn't too bad since Geralt drives nearly double that to get out to his ranch. It's enough time to actually enjoy the drive, the wind and the power of the bike underneath him and the pleasant warmth of someone else against him, arms snug around his waist. It's almost a shame when he pulls into the parking lot of the apartments and parks the bike at the closest open spot to Jaskier's.
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Whatever strange looks Eskel and Lambert are throwing his way are quickly diverted by Jaskier's enthusiastic good-byes; he grabs at their hands and they allow it mostly due to surprise, a little bewildered by the rapid-fire thanks and requests to talk to him on social media and ride with him at the ranch and god knows what else. Eskel takes it best, just pats Jaskier's hand and says he's sure he'll see him around, while Lambert looks at the musician like he's grown a second head.
He shakes a finger in Lambert's face and tells him to confess to his friend. Lambert tells him to go fuck himself. Eskel kicks him underneath the table, but Jaskier seems completely unfazed by the response and rushes off to continue his farewells, his mood improving considerably from five minutes ago.
"Give me my keys," he says to Eskel, and his brother hands them over.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" he asks, and Geralt gives him an incredulous look in return.
"I think I can handle driving him home."
Eskel frowns, but he doesn't get a chance to give whatever lecture he's gearing up for, because Geralt grabs his pint, downs the rest of it, and heads out to the parking lot to wait for Jaskier. He stands next to his bike, a black roadster-style motorcycle that he's had for years, a good and reliable machine. He gets a map pin drop while he's waiting-- the location of Jaskier's apartment, he assumes-- and checks the map to see what the fastest way is to get there at this time of night. He realizes, as he's working out the best route, that Jaskier may not have been expecting a motorcycle but rather his truck, and not everyone likes the idea of riding on one. But then the door opens and Jaskier walks out, and he seems thrilled when he sees that Geralt's standing next to a motorcycle.
"Hm," he says, because yes, this is his bike, he's not just standing next to some asshole's motorcycle. He digs through his saddlebags for his own helmet and the spare that he keeps just in case, and tosses that one over to Jaskier. Nobody rides on his bike without proper headgear, for obvious reasons.
He gets on the bike and pushes the kickstand up with his heel, keeping the machine upright so that Jaskier could get on easier. There's enough space behind him for a passenger, if said passenger doesn't mind getting close to his back.
"Get on," he says, and when Jaskier gets himself onto the motorcycle, he'll reach down to show him where to put his feet so that they don't drag or get burned by the tailpipe. Most people, he'd just tell them what to do; he takes Jaskier's ankles in his hand and moves it to where they need to be, and it's usually a pretty slick move with women. Always worked well, touching them while they braced against his back, easy to explain away if they aren't interested and part of the lead-up if they are. For Jaskier-- well, he really just doesn't want the guy to burn himself.
It's a good night for a ride, and once Jaskier's tucked up against his back, Geralt kicks the bike to life and starts on the route to his apartment. It'll take a good twenty minutes to get there, which isn't too bad since Geralt drives nearly double that to get out to his ranch. It's enough time to actually enjoy the drive, the wind and the power of the bike underneath him and the pleasant warmth of someone else against him, arms snug around his waist. It's almost a shame when he pulls into the parking lot of the apartments and parks the bike at the closest open spot to Jaskier's.
"You all right back there?"