"Won't do me any good, I was always a shitty student. Geralt's the bookworm."
The aforementioned witcher tossed another look Eskel's way, but it wasn't so heated this time. Mild annoyance at most. Most times, Eskel wouldn't trust another person to do up his wounds, but this is Geralt's bard-- the only person on the Continent less likely than your average witcher to let someone clean them up after a hunt. And he trusts this bard with a needle to his skin, knowing that a poorly stitched wound could be worse than one that was just let to heal on its own. If Jaskier's good enough for Geralt, he's good enough for anyone.
He's even considerate, giving Eskel a warning before he starts putting the needle into him. It's also for his own good, though-- a startled witcher might lash out in any number of ways, none of them pleasant. But he just grimaces a little and lets the bard do as he would, staying so still while he stitches that it might almost seem like he doesn't feel the pain of it at all. (Ask certain sources, and they would say that witchers don't feel pain properly, anyway, so it hardly matters if you're gentle when you treat them.) He does, of course, but the minor prick of a needle is far below the kind of pain that he felt when he got the wound, and he had handled the greater hurt just fine. Jaskier's stitches are neat and even from practice, and when he's done, the gash is just a thin line.
Eskel moves his arm as directed, testing his range of motion.
"Seems fine to me," he says, examining the neat stitching for himself. "Hey, you do pretty nice work. They teach you this in barding school, or did you pick it up on the road?"
While Eskel is examining his injury, Geralt fetches the vodka bottle for Jaskier; the bard likes to have a drink after he deals with the worst of Geralt's injuries, as a way to unwind. The really bad ones, the ones that seem like they might test even a witcher's constitution-- they tax him greatly, both because of the work involved and because of the stress and worry. Geralt isn't sure he'll ever get used to that, to the way that his actions have such a consequence on someone else.
"Mind it," he says, half teasingly. "We won't slow down if you have a headache tomorrow morning."
no subject
The aforementioned witcher tossed another look Eskel's way, but it wasn't so heated this time. Mild annoyance at most. Most times, Eskel wouldn't trust another person to do up his wounds, but this is Geralt's bard-- the only person on the Continent less likely than your average witcher to let someone clean them up after a hunt. And he trusts this bard with a needle to his skin, knowing that a poorly stitched wound could be worse than one that was just let to heal on its own. If Jaskier's good enough for Geralt, he's good enough for anyone.
He's even considerate, giving Eskel a warning before he starts putting the needle into him. It's also for his own good, though-- a startled witcher might lash out in any number of ways, none of them pleasant. But he just grimaces a little and lets the bard do as he would, staying so still while he stitches that it might almost seem like he doesn't feel the pain of it at all. (Ask certain sources, and they would say that witchers don't feel pain properly, anyway, so it hardly matters if you're gentle when you treat them.) He does, of course, but the minor prick of a needle is far below the kind of pain that he felt when he got the wound, and he had handled the greater hurt just fine. Jaskier's stitches are neat and even from practice, and when he's done, the gash is just a thin line.
Eskel moves his arm as directed, testing his range of motion.
"Seems fine to me," he says, examining the neat stitching for himself. "Hey, you do pretty nice work. They teach you this in barding school, or did you pick it up on the road?"
While Eskel is examining his injury, Geralt fetches the vodka bottle for Jaskier; the bard likes to have a drink after he deals with the worst of Geralt's injuries, as a way to unwind. The really bad ones, the ones that seem like they might test even a witcher's constitution-- they tax him greatly, both because of the work involved and because of the stress and worry. Geralt isn't sure he'll ever get used to that, to the way that his actions have such a consequence on someone else.
"Mind it," he says, half teasingly. "We won't slow down if you have a headache tomorrow morning."