Jaskier prattles about the shopping list, which is fine-- Geralt has learned over the past two decades how to tune out most of what the bard says while retaining only the important parts. Parsing through his unrelenting, rambling monologue is a fine art, one that Geralt is pleased to have cultivated. Following his train of thought can be exhausting sometimes, otherwise.
He agrees to warmer clothes, at least, though Geralt has no illusions that the bard will try to find them in vibrant colors and patterns. Technically, Jaskier can do as he pleases with his coin, since the majority of their funds here will be acquired through his teaching; the witcher is not the breadwinner in Oxenfurt. At very least, he wants to have a look at the things that he plans to get, to make sure that they're heavy enough. Then he moves on to gifts for his brothers, then jumps to gifts for Ciri and the various little comforts that a girl of noble origins might like to have in a witchers' fortress.
"Hm. Vodka, for my brothers. Enough of it and Lambert might not even be an ass."
Unlikely, but hope springs eternal. And, anyway, even if Lambert's personality doesn't improve with the liberal application of alcohol, Geralt could at least be too drunk to notice.
Geralt hums in a sort of vaguely agreeable indifference to the things that Jaskier suggests for Ciri; he doesn't know much about what a young girl might like, but he'd bet that the bard would. They could spare the coin for ribbons and trinkets if it might make her life in Kaer Morhen a little easier. His brain catches up with Jaskier's babbling after a moment, though, and his brow furrows.
no subject
He agrees to warmer clothes, at least, though Geralt has no illusions that the bard will try to find them in vibrant colors and patterns. Technically, Jaskier can do as he pleases with his coin, since the majority of their funds here will be acquired through his teaching; the witcher is not the breadwinner in Oxenfurt. At very least, he wants to have a look at the things that he plans to get, to make sure that they're heavy enough. Then he moves on to gifts for his brothers, then jumps to gifts for Ciri and the various little comforts that a girl of noble origins might like to have in a witchers' fortress.
"Hm. Vodka, for my brothers. Enough of it and Lambert might not even be an ass."
Unlikely, but hope springs eternal. And, anyway, even if Lambert's personality doesn't improve with the liberal application of alcohol, Geralt could at least be too drunk to notice.
Geralt hums in a sort of vaguely agreeable indifference to the things that Jaskier suggests for Ciri; he doesn't know much about what a young girl might like, but he'd bet that the bard would. They could spare the coin for ribbons and trinkets if it might make her life in Kaer Morhen a little easier. His brain catches up with Jaskier's babbling after a moment, though, and his brow furrows.
"Monthlies?"