Someone is fucking pissed. What could've Eskel possibly said to leave him in this mood? Jaskier tilts his head as he stares at Geralt, cursing his heart for still being curious about the witcher, wanting to understand the mysteries behind the man that broke it in the first place.

And what is with the question anyway? A pissy Geralt would usually just grunt or tell him to shut up. Why the sudden interest? In another context, Jaskier would've been happy about Geralt wanting to know about his bard and his brother getting along. Right now, however, there's something behind that question that he can't explain yet still bothers the hell out of Jaskier. Which isn't a good thing when he's feeling petty as fuck.

"If I didn't know better, I would say you were jealous." He replies without thinking, the tone of his voice implying how ridiculous is the mere idea of it would be. Seeing as he won't be able to sleep any time soon, he leaves the bed and picks up his lute, taking it with him to the window. "I owe him for being there."

Simply put, yet carrying a lot of feeling - Eskel has been a blessing in the middle of this mess, a touch of spring in a winter storm. Jaskier hopes he can get on writing soon, his new friend deserves that song. Speaking of music, he sits on the windowsill when he reaches it - since searching for comfort in a warm body isn't an option tonight, he'll find it in his other love: music.

There's no singing, at least. But the notes being played by skillful fingers are, without a doubt, Her sweet kiss.