As soon as Geralt leaves, Jaskier sighs. If it's with relief or tiredness, he isn't sure. But he hates how his emotions keep shaking him all over the place: being alone is something that he loathes, being the people person he is and needing comfort at the moment, yet Geralt's presence has been incredibly stressful.

The cloak is nice, at least, and Jaskier slowly moves his body to hug his legs and create a cocoon out of witcher black, wishing he could fall asleep and wake up to all this being a horrible nightmare. Instead, his eyes travel around the room again, watching the fireplace and admiring the colors of the flames, moving afterwards to Geralt's pile of things, wondering if anything has changed since--

Wait.

Is that--?

There's no fucking way. He couldn't have done it, he's an ass, he wouldn't have cared about his--

Wrapping the cloak around himself and with very careful steps, Jaskier leaves the bed. A horrible idea, because of course he falls, getting some colorful curses out of him - hopefully the witcher's dumb dog ears don't pick on it. So he crawls the rest of the way, tears on his eyes because of the pain but also because of what awaits him on that pile. He thought he would never see it again.

When Geralt returns, he'll find Jaskier sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and hugging a very specific object against his chest.

"...you rescued my lute."