"Yeah, well..." He looks down at his lap, not wanting to meet those golden eyes. "You already know my answer to that."

How many times did they have this argument in the past? Jaskier telling Geralt not to move while he was being patched up, only for the man to say it was fine because he was a witcher? How many times he would take on a new contract regardless of the state of his body after the last one? Jaskier would start a speech every time, reminding Geralt that being a witcher didn't mean he had to endure the pain. It didn't mean he didn't deserve a break, didn't mean he didn't deserve kindness or soothing.

He can't bring himself to say all that now, though. His heart isn't exactly in the mood to work on Geralt's reputation and self-esteem issues.

And yet... here they are, with Geralt playing nurse. His hands are kind and methodical, putting his pain at ease and helping his body relax. Every single muscle and bone is still sore as fuck, but at least it's tolerable now. What's difficult to deal with is everything Geralt related.

They aren't talking about the same kind of foolish, he wants to say, but Geralt is still talking, and Jaskier lets him. It's such a rare occurrence after all. When the witcher says he isn't going to leave, Jaskier snorts again, thinking about Geralt didn't have trouble leaving back on the mountain.

Speaking of the mountain... ah. Here we go. Jaskier finally looks up, heart beating fast in anticipation... but that's it? He raiseshis eyebrows.

"...aaaaaaand?"

Goddammit, he's two seconds away from throwing the other pillow.