It's been over a year since Geralt had heard Jaskier's laugh, had seen the way he throws his whole head back, how his shoulders shake with it. It's... good, to see him still capable of mirth, and so quickly after coming out of a dark place. For such a dandy, Jaskier is surprisingly resilient. And that, too, would serve him well, both on the road and up at Kaer Morhen.

And it's good that Jaskier has true confidence in his ability to get them enough coin for their journey. If he's truly so well regarded in Oxenfurt, sitting on a professorship that he doesn't plan on coming back to for a long time, than his few lectures will give them enough to get to Kaer Morhen. And perhaps Geralt will even have a little time between drowner jobs to stand at the back of one of his full lecture halls and listen in a little; he won't know much about the subject, but he could come and see what all the fuss is about.

Geralt is almost surprised at Jaskier's discretion when it comes to talking about their parting on the mountain; he would've thought that the bard would've bemoaned his cruel treatment to anyone who would listen, like he had complained to Geralt about being dumped by the Countess de Stael. But, he had been...

silent.

Jaskier is rarely ever silent. He wasn't even silent about the Countess, and he claimed that she had left him to die a heartbroken man. He had been wrong-- it wasn't the Countess that would accomplish such a feat, but the thoughtless cruelty of a witcher.

"I see." Jaskier can't even meet his eyes. He hadn't thought that everything would immediately go back to the way it was after this, but the fact that his name had not even passed the bard's lips is a harsh reality. "You should know that I have no expectations. Your songs are your own, to use or discard as you please."

If he doesn't write another song about his white wolf, Geralt will understand.