Jaskier takes back half of his things, and though Geralt frowns, he doesn't object. It would be useless, anyway-- Jaskier will do as he will, regardless of what the witcher says. At least he's only carrying some of his things, rather than all. Jaskier shouldn't overwork himself in the next few days, not now that he's so high up in the mountains. The air is thinner here than it is down in the valley, and he'll need a little time to adjust to it.

"Meeting you was important," he says, and Jaskier's hand is warm and comfortable in his. He laces a few of their fingers together, letting his thumb rub gently against his knuckles. "But I prefer not to think about how I treated you."

Shortly after Jaskier took that coin, after all, Geralt had sunk his fist into the bard's stomach. He had thought it was for the boy's own good at the time, but now he wouldn't be able to raise a hand to him like that even if held at swordpoint. He doesn't like to think about the week or so afterwards, when Jaskier would wince when he sat up in the morning.

The path to the library is a well-kept one, so the halls are in decent repair and aren't too draughty, even for a human bard. There are a few places along the route that look out over the courtyard, repurposed into the witchers' training grounds.

"The memories you associate with that coin are more pleasant than mine."

Though how Jaskier has managed to avoid attaching an unpleasant memory like being slugged by a surly witcher onto that coin is beyond him.