Not only Geralt doesn't put the mug down, the little shit actually drinks more. Jaskier gasps in exaggerated offense, but honestly? He's kinda amused and even a bit impressed as well. He likes attitude and sass in a man, and it's extra fun when it comes from Geralt, who most of the time would rather grunt.

"I'll forgive you because you know how to identify chamomile."

Which sounds kinda silly, but Jaskier has lost count of all the times he's offered his box of teas and got told whatever, it's all tea anyway. So points to Geralt for that, which makes up for the ones he lost over having just regular bar soap in his bathroom.

While Geralt munches on chips, Jaskier finishes his own cookies, which taste like berries and nostalgia. To this day, Jaskier still wonders how his grandmother ended up married to that stupid family of his - love works in mysterious and fucked up ways, he supposes. Those memories hit extra hard when Geralt mentions his dad being in charge of his haircuts, which makes Jaskier laugh. Oh, what a difference in parents - his own father would never do service for his children like this. The man isn't even capable of taking care of his own stupid beard!

"Your dad cut your hair? That sounds both adorable and terrifying." It also a bit more information about Geralt's childhood, and Jaskier shall treasure it. "While I'm sure you were just as dashing and handsome with brown hair, I admit I like the gray better. You pull it off well. Is it really gray though?" He raises a lock of hair and brings it closer to his face for a better look. "I'd say it's even white under the right li--"

Wait. Is that-? Jaskier sniffs once. Twice. Then asks the gods he doesn't believe in how he ended up crushing on such a himbo.

"Geralt, my dear friend - did you wash your hair with the bloody body wash?"

He should lose points for this, but the asshole manages to be endearing with his... his... himboness.