It's easier, when Jaskier finally loosens a little under his hands. Tending to wounds when the person's muscles are tight just makes the job more painful and difficult, and... something sits wrong in his chest with the fact that Jaskier is tense around him.

He finishes smearing a glob of salve over one of the marks near Jaskier's knee when the bard's faint, surprised voice comes out of his mouth. Geralt looks up at him again, head tilted slightly to one side as he regards him, then bends to his work again.

"I found my child surprise," he says, and that seems like the best place to start. "She's safe."

It might be awkward, having Geralt's hands on Jaskier's thighs while he bandages up the lacerations from the whip, but if he focuses enough on talking, he isn't thinking about all the other times that he'd thought about warm, pale thighs. It's not a good time for that kind of thing, anyway. Not when he's hurt.

"Nilfgaard knows that she was with me, so I had to prioritize her safety. I came back to find you after I got her to Kaer Morhen." He ties the bandages carefully, so that the knot won't press against any of the wounds. "They won't stop coming for you, Jaskier. Not after all the songs."

That explains the delay-- but the why, well. That's obvious, isn't it? Are the words really necessary?

He double-checks his work and makes a soft hum when he's satisfied.

"Back, next."