"All done." Jaskier says as he ties the bandages with a cute little bow, then pats Eskel on the shoulder a couple of times. "That's a good wolf."
Look, if they insist on behaving like feral puppies, Jaskier is going to treat them as such.
(They're adorable.)
He starts putting his things back in the leather satchel but pauses when Geralt replies, making a show of rolling his eyes and groaning in protest. Eskel doesn't back him up this time, and Jaskier knows he's coming face to face with another layer of witcher bullshit. Unbelievable! There's two of them now, one would think taking shifts would be the most natural thing to do - don't witchers like being practical?
"Oh, don't give me that pile of horseshit!" Here comes the indignant housewife back with his hands on his waist. "A week or so I could begrudgingly accept, but you haven't slept since fucking Gors Velen! And since then you've fought-" One hand is suddenly raised to start counting with his fingers. "Nilfgaardian soldiers, a werewolf, a hoard of nekkers, and then Nilfgaardian soldiers again."
Jaskier decides to stand up then, only to be able to poke at Geralt's broad chest. There's a frown on his face and he obviously sounds frustrated as hell, but the worry is most noticeable in his scent. "So don't tell me you're fine, my dear witcher." More terms of endearment in front of the brother, but hey, better get them used to that asap. "Be grateful I said shifts at all, because I actually should be asking Eskel to take one for the team and let you sleep the whole night through."
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Look, if they insist on behaving like feral puppies, Jaskier is going to treat them as such.
(They're adorable.)
He starts putting his things back in the leather satchel but pauses when Geralt replies, making a show of rolling his eyes and groaning in protest. Eskel doesn't back him up this time, and Jaskier knows he's coming face to face with another layer of witcher bullshit. Unbelievable! There's two of them now, one would think taking shifts would be the most natural thing to do - don't witchers like being practical?
"Oh, don't give me that pile of horseshit!" Here comes the indignant housewife back with his hands on his waist. "A week or so I could begrudgingly accept, but you haven't slept since fucking Gors Velen! And since then you've fought-" One hand is suddenly raised to start counting with his fingers. "Nilfgaardian soldiers, a werewolf, a hoard of nekkers, and then Nilfgaardian soldiers again."
Jaskier decides to stand up then, only to be able to poke at Geralt's broad chest. There's a frown on his face and he obviously sounds frustrated as hell, but the worry is most noticeable in his scent. "So don't tell me you're fine, my dear witcher." More terms of endearment in front of the brother, but hey, better get them used to that asap. "Be grateful I said shifts at all, because I actually should be asking Eskel to take one for the team and let you sleep the whole night through."