An arm around his hips means Geralt likes having Jaskier on his lap, and that makes up for the fact Geralt doesn't let him feed him (spoilsport!). The witcher's lap is very comfortable and Jaskier is already planning to appropriate as often as possible from now on - there's something to be said about having your lunch while surrounded by wolf warmth and muscle, to say the least.
The real pouting comes when Geralt mentions Rinde - Jaskier's whole body tenses as soon as he hears the word, his scent becoming sour at the memory. Bollocks, he doesn't want to go back to Rinde, even in passing. It's not even about Yennefer (although the fact that's the place where she came into their lives definitely doesn't help), it's about his body still remembering the tumor on his throat as it happened yesterday - his worst nightmare coming to life.
The stew bowl is put down for a moment just so Jaskier can down some wine instead. And by 'some' we mean 'more than half the tankard'.
"I wouldn't want to be caught in a blizzard either. And I understand the need for no stops." It'll be annoying as hell, but he'll endure. It's the price of adventure. Usually he would jump on Geralt's anecdote, it sounds like something ballad worth it, but his mind continues to go through a mental map, considering their options to avoid bloody Rinde. "But why going south to take north again? Why not the northern pass?"
His mind gives him the answer as soon as he finishes asking the question: Blaviken. Fuck. Oh, bloody fucking hell. Catching on his mistake, Jaskier puts his hands up and shakes them, babbling through an attempt to cover his mistake.
"Through Ghelibol, I mean! Good old Ghelibol, home of the largest private library in the Northern Kingdoms! A wonderful and rich history that goes all the way back to the First Landing... not that we're interested in it, that goes without saying, we aren't traveling for sightseeing, I swear I do know that, Geralt."
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The real pouting comes when Geralt mentions Rinde - Jaskier's whole body tenses as soon as he hears the word, his scent becoming sour at the memory. Bollocks, he doesn't want to go back to Rinde, even in passing. It's not even about Yennefer (although the fact that's the place where she came into their lives definitely doesn't help), it's about his body still remembering the tumor on his throat as it happened yesterday - his worst nightmare coming to life.
The stew bowl is put down for a moment just so Jaskier can down some wine instead. And by 'some' we mean 'more than half the tankard'.
"I wouldn't want to be caught in a blizzard either. And I understand the need for no stops." It'll be annoying as hell, but he'll endure. It's the price of adventure. Usually he would jump on Geralt's anecdote, it sounds like something ballad worth it, but his mind continues to go through a mental map, considering their options to avoid bloody Rinde. "But why going south to take north again? Why not the northern pass?"
His mind gives him the answer as soon as he finishes asking the question: Blaviken. Fuck. Oh, bloody fucking hell. Catching on his mistake, Jaskier puts his hands up and shakes them, babbling through an attempt to cover his mistake.
"Through Ghelibol, I mean! Good old Ghelibol, home of the largest private library in the Northern Kingdoms! A wonderful and rich history that goes all the way back to the First Landing... not that we're interested in it, that goes without saying, we aren't traveling for sightseeing, I swear I do know that, Geralt."
Ground, please swallow him now.