The change in the mood is instant, and Jaskier can feel his stomach dropping. He's fucked up big time. To think he had wanted to at least get a hand or blow job going before leaving, a little extra thank you for Geralt to go with the brooch. But there's no way he's directing the mood back in that direction, and even if he could, he wouldn't dare to try. Geralt and his past deserve more respect than that.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." He never does, does he? His mouth just runs without breaks. "Rinde, southern pass, Ard Carraigh. It's a good plan. I'm in, I promise."

Rinde won't be easy, he knows. But Blaviken would be one hundred times worse. He would never do that to Geralt, especially not after he's fought so hard to convince the man that he deserves kindness and two days at Oxenfurt to know what that kindness can be like. This little vacation, if it can be called that, can't end on a sour note. He refuses.

After a very short moment of hesitation, he kisses Geralt's forehead, and lets his hand run through white hair, hoping to be soothing. Lunch forgotten for now, for once Jaskier knows not to push the subject and only hums a little melody as lowly as possible - it's not 'blessed silence', because the idiot is incapable of that, but hey, close enough, right?

It's up to Geralt if he wants to chew him out now - Jaskier isn't going to risk another punch to his stomach.