Of course Jaskier isn't deterred by such a small complaint! Jaskier isn't even deterred by big complaints. Especially when Geralt is all bark and no bite with his complaining - this is a habit of his, Jaskier has noticed. He calls him out for his ideas but he participates anyway, like right now, saying combing isn't necessary but sitting next to Jaskier and offering him his back anyway. Silly wolf.
"But I want to," he replies as he removes the hair tie and starts running his fingers through the hair to separate as much as he can, hoping it'll make his job easier later. Geralt can't see it, but Jaskier pulls a face at the idea of just taking care of a mess by pulling it back - he wants to comment on that fact that would only make the mess worse, but he's distracted by something else. He had forgotten about his mug! "Did you just sip my tea? Bollocks. I mean- I don't mind sharing, but I cut you off the coffee because I was trying to stop you from mixing weed and caffeine! It's like you enjoy wasting my efforts, Geralt, I swear." Just teasing! Mostly. He throws a bag of ships at Geralt's lap before returning to the hairstyling. "At least put something more in your stomach first."
Beer, followed by weed and tea with only a couple of cookies and not-real-brownies in his belly? Yeah, not a good combo. Jaskier is enjoying this placid Geralt, and he wants him to stay that way. And that's not even taking into account possibly puking on his beautiful couch and fine blankets.
Once his fingers have done as much as they realistically can, Jaskier starts working with the comb, being as gentle as the knots allow him to. Sometimes he combs from top to bottom normally, but most of the time he ends grabbing locks of hair in one hand as the other one fights the knot while trying not to pull. The most ironic part of this whole deal is the fact Geralt would never allow his horses' tails to get like this, so supposedly he does understand the importance of good brushing, he just doesn't apply it to himself.
Which is kinda sad, really.
"Sixteen?" He whistles to show his surprise and reminds his mind not to chase any horny thoughts (like wondering if the carpet matches the drapes). "Talk about early graying. What color was it before? Have you always worn it long? And what do you have against the word starlight, it's a perfectly fine way to describe your shade!"
Look, if Geralt is going to mention a detail like that, obviously Jaskier must take the chance to hunt for more! It's not every day that he gets this mute of a man to share so easily.
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"But I want to," he replies as he removes the hair tie and starts running his fingers through the hair to separate as much as he can, hoping it'll make his job easier later. Geralt can't see it, but Jaskier pulls a face at the idea of just taking care of a mess by pulling it back - he wants to comment on that fact that would only make the mess worse, but he's distracted by something else. He had forgotten about his mug! "Did you just sip my tea? Bollocks. I mean- I don't mind sharing, but I cut you off the coffee because I was trying to stop you from mixing weed and caffeine! It's like you enjoy wasting my efforts, Geralt, I swear." Just teasing! Mostly. He throws a bag of ships at Geralt's lap before returning to the hairstyling. "At least put something more in your stomach first."
Beer, followed by weed and tea with only a couple of cookies and not-real-brownies in his belly? Yeah, not a good combo. Jaskier is enjoying this placid Geralt, and he wants him to stay that way. And that's not even taking into account possibly puking on his beautiful couch and fine blankets.
Once his fingers have done as much as they realistically can, Jaskier starts working with the comb, being as gentle as the knots allow him to. Sometimes he combs from top to bottom normally, but most of the time he ends grabbing locks of hair in one hand as the other one fights the knot while trying not to pull. The most ironic part of this whole deal is the fact Geralt would never allow his horses' tails to get like this, so supposedly he does understand the importance of good brushing, he just doesn't apply it to himself.
Which is kinda sad, really.
"Sixteen?" He whistles to show his surprise and reminds his mind not to chase any horny thoughts (like wondering if the carpet matches the drapes). "Talk about early graying. What color was it before? Have you always worn it long? And what do you have against the word starlight, it's a perfectly fine way to describe your shade!"
Look, if Geralt is going to mention a detail like that, obviously Jaskier must take the chance to hunt for more! It's not every day that he gets this mute of a man to share so easily.