There are not enough words to describe the amount of satisfaction that shows on the glint in blue eyes and smirk on thin lips - how many people can claim having surprised Geralt like this, when the man has live for a century? Having hit him with a freaking pillow, when the witcher can usually dodge arrows with his sword? Nobody, that's who. Another thing for his "I'm the only one who gets this Geralt" list. It's a pity he doesn't sing about the motherfucker anymore, because it would make an amazing comic jig.
And of course, what does the asshole say in return? This has to be a joke.
"THAT'S what you concentrate on, you bloody imbecile? Unbelievable." Jaskier says after groaning and rolling his eyes, hands thrown in the air in exasperation. Seriously, his metaphors are wasted on this man. "Not THAT kind of cockeyed. It means foolish! Absurd! Preposterous! LudicroooAAAH-!" He would've started another rant of insults if it wasn't for Geralt lowering the cloak, and now he can feel the cold on the open scabs. The damn fingers touching them, too. Stupid witcher and his stupid kindness. "...bollocks."
Arms hug his stomach and his back bends over, body shivering again as the adrenaline starts fading away and Jaskier becomes aware of the pain again. Fuck, why couldn't Geralt have found him earlier? Yelling all these things at him is so damn satisfying. He doesn't want to stop now - sadly he can see Geralt's point. Just like that day with the djinn (she saved your life, Jaskier), he hates it that the witcher is right.
"Oh sure, NOW you're an advocate of not moving for the sake of wounds." The snort that comes with that is loud enough to echo in the room, the sarcasm is so thick in the air that you could cut it with a blade. But at least he does lower his voice when speaking this time, because unlike what Geralt believes, he isn't that stupid. No, really. "Worry not, you horse's ass, I'll go to sleep after you're done patching me up, and you won't have to hear this filling-less pie no more. We cannot have more shit piled on you."
A sigh, then he mumbles to himself, pointless considering Geralt's hearing. "I truly am foolish."
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And of course, what does the asshole say in return? This has to be a joke.
"THAT'S what you concentrate on, you bloody imbecile? Unbelievable." Jaskier says after groaning and rolling his eyes, hands thrown in the air in exasperation. Seriously, his metaphors are wasted on this man. "Not THAT kind of cockeyed. It means foolish! Absurd! Preposterous! LudicroooAAAH-!" He would've started another rant of insults if it wasn't for Geralt lowering the cloak, and now he can feel the cold on the open scabs. The damn fingers touching them, too. Stupid witcher and his stupid kindness. "...bollocks."
Arms hug his stomach and his back bends over, body shivering again as the adrenaline starts fading away and Jaskier becomes aware of the pain again. Fuck, why couldn't Geralt have found him earlier? Yelling all these things at him is so damn satisfying. He doesn't want to stop now - sadly he can see Geralt's point. Just like that day with the djinn (she saved your life, Jaskier), he hates it that the witcher is right.
"Oh sure, NOW you're an advocate of not moving for the sake of wounds." The snort that comes with that is loud enough to echo in the room, the sarcasm is so thick in the air that you could cut it with a blade. But at least he does lower his voice when speaking this time, because unlike what Geralt believes, he isn't that stupid. No, really. "Worry not, you horse's ass, I'll go to sleep after you're done patching me up, and you won't have to hear this filling-less pie no more. We cannot have more shit piled on you."
A sigh, then he mumbles to himself, pointless considering Geralt's hearing. "I truly am foolish."