"Maybe not a dipstick but still a bitch." He mumbles before downing his second shot. "Nobody in town knew her name, and I wasn't in the mood to try to charm it out of her. I only wanted to get the hell out of Hengfors."
And isn't that telling? Geralt is right about alcohol losing Jaskier's tongue, there goes a couple of details into whatever is going on in this bard's head - which isn't pretty, to say the least. Especially if he wasn't in the mood to flirt. At least Geralt does pass him the bottle, allowing him to silence his loud feelings for at least a moment - he's already drinking when the witcher leaves the room.
"Xenowhat now?" He asks a little too late.
Maybe a special kind of messenger bird? Whatever. If it means not having to see her, Jaskier approves. He continues to drink as he considers his next move - he should wait for notGeralt to come back, he supposes, wouldn't want him to think a portal got him again. Perhaps he could ask for a room then, or at least the library, and stay in there writing (or pretending to) and reading and avoid the rest of the world until he could find a way back home. He can't spend his whole stay here drunk just to be able to look at notGeralt's face.
Although the idea is very tempting...
He's in the middle of chugging again when Geralt puts down a little object on the table and--
What the everlasting fuck.
Jaskier chokes on the vodka, spitting some on the table and all over his pants. Fuck, those are nice pants! Somehow he manages to glare at Geralt as he pats his chest and coughs, blue eyes filled with anger: a mix of what he brought with him already and new frustration provoked by being made talk to the witch and sounding like an drunk idiot in the process.
"Something went wrong?! She did it on purpose!" Here comes the flapping of his hands as he raises his voice, alcohol definitely helping him cut loose. "I asked for Oxenfurt, she SAID she would send me somewhere else instead! To my face! Obviously nothing went wrong on HER end!"
no subject
And isn't that telling? Geralt is right about alcohol losing Jaskier's tongue, there goes a couple of details into whatever is going on in this bard's head - which isn't pretty, to say the least. Especially if he wasn't in the mood to flirt. At least Geralt does pass him the bottle, allowing him to silence his loud feelings for at least a moment - he's already drinking when the witcher leaves the room.
"Xenowhat now?" He asks a little too late.
Maybe a special kind of messenger bird? Whatever. If it means not having to see her, Jaskier approves. He continues to drink as he considers his next move - he should wait for notGeralt to come back, he supposes, wouldn't want him to think a portal got him again. Perhaps he could ask for a room then, or at least the library, and stay in there writing (or pretending to) and reading and avoid the rest of the world until he could find a way back home. He can't spend his whole stay here drunk just to be able to look at notGeralt's face.
Although the idea is very tempting...
He's in the middle of chugging again when Geralt puts down a little object on the table and--
What the everlasting fuck.
Jaskier chokes on the vodka, spitting some on the table and all over his pants. Fuck, those are nice pants! Somehow he manages to glare at Geralt as he pats his chest and coughs, blue eyes filled with anger: a mix of what he brought with him already and new frustration provoked by being made talk to the witch and sounding like an drunk idiot in the process.
"Something went wrong?! She did it on purpose!" Here comes the flapping of his hands as he raises his voice, alcohol definitely helping him cut loose. "I asked for Oxenfurt, she SAID she would send me somewhere else instead! To my face! Obviously nothing went wrong on HER end!"