Once Jaskier was in the arena, Geralt closes the gate behind him and leans up against the fence, watching him take a few laps since he doesn't want any frames up for jumps. He goes through the paces quicker this time, walk to trot to canter, and now that Pegasus is a little warmed up, he's eager to stretch his legs. He's always a little spunky the first time he's ridden during the day, but that energy seems to suit Jaskier just fine.

There's a look on the city boy's face that's-- blissful, maybe, or exhilarated. There's something about riding that he clearly loves, and that's... something worth encouraging. Even if he's a ridiculous city boy with silly fashion and an instrument case covered in ridiculous stickers, Geralt wants to have people here who have passion and drive, not somebody who's being forced into lessons because their parents want them to. No forced polo stars or unwilling showjumpers.

And if all Jaskier ultimately wants to do is go up on trails when the weather's nice and hang out somewhere scenic and do whatever it is that musicians do, than that's fine, so long as he does it safely.

Pegasus backs down to a trot, snorting and tossing his head-- willing to run more if Jaskier will let him-- and the musician tosses out a question as he posts past Geralt's spot on the rails. There's a flippant edge to his tone that Geralt would think is flirtatious if Jaskier had been a woman.

"Have to make sure you don't get thrown and break your neck," he says on Jaskier's next pass. "Break my daughter's heart if you end up dead and can't blog your videos."

That's absolutely not the correct term for what he does, but Geralt also doesn't care. Twitter, Instagram, Youtube, it's all blogging, right?