Decent coin for punching a smug prick of a nobleman in the jaw? Geralt's done worse jobs for worse reasons. And considering what Jaskier's told him about the man-- and that part about his tutors beating an education into him with canes-- he might even think about doing it for free. Just for the pleasure of it.
The hand returns to Geralt's chest for a moment before the bard's lips touch his cheek; nothing much, just a quick peck. A thank-you, apparently, for listening to him and for lightening his mood at the end of it. That's... not a usual way to thank a man for something? He's seen women do such things before, kiss each other on the cheeks, but perhaps Jaskier is just odd. Scratch that-- Jaskier is odd, and maybe this is just one of the ways that he is.
Doesn't matter. He's got the door open and Geralt follows him in, into a dormitory room that, judging from the faint smell of dust and stagnant air, hasn't been used in some time. It'll do, though, for a few days. Geralt drops his pack in a corner, out of the way, while Jaskier goes face down into his pillows. He huffs a laugh and meanders over, pushing aside the curtains of the canopy to see Jaskier basking in the softness of down comforters.
"The rules, huh?" He presses a hand into the soft mattress; it's been a long time since he'd slept in a feather bed. Probably not since the last time he took a contract with a lord who deigned to give him lodging, too. "Going to make me sleep on the floor?"
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Decent coin for punching a smug prick of a nobleman in the jaw? Geralt's done worse jobs for worse reasons. And considering what Jaskier's told him about the man-- and that part about his tutors beating an education into him with canes-- he might even think about doing it for free. Just for the pleasure of it.
The hand returns to Geralt's chest for a moment before the bard's lips touch his cheek; nothing much, just a quick peck. A thank-you, apparently, for listening to him and for lightening his mood at the end of it. That's... not a usual way to thank a man for something? He's seen women do such things before, kiss each other on the cheeks, but perhaps Jaskier is just odd. Scratch that-- Jaskier is odd, and maybe this is just one of the ways that he is.
Doesn't matter. He's got the door open and Geralt follows him in, into a dormitory room that, judging from the faint smell of dust and stagnant air, hasn't been used in some time. It'll do, though, for a few days. Geralt drops his pack in a corner, out of the way, while Jaskier goes face down into his pillows. He huffs a laugh and meanders over, pushing aside the curtains of the canopy to see Jaskier basking in the softness of down comforters.
"The rules, huh?" He presses a hand into the soft mattress; it's been a long time since he'd slept in a feather bed. Probably not since the last time he took a contract with a lord who deigned to give him lodging, too. "Going to make me sleep on the floor?"