The delicate approach hasn't been a complete failure - the invite to drink with him (aka having alcohol in his veins) is definitely helping speed this along. If this has been Geralt from home, Jaskier would've already sent him to hell the minute he saw him. As it stands now, however, looking at this familiar yet strange witcher confuses him too much, throws him off his center. He wants to avoid him, to look the other way, not to melt under the kindness of those words.
Geralt is almost begging to talk. Geralt never begs, especially not to lose his blessed silence.
And so it's the alcohol that allows him to confront all this - which makes him even madder, because never has he need liquid bravery to use his tongue or to look at Geralt in the eye. The situation is unique, he reminds himself, he has all the right in the world to feel vulnerable and lost. Besides, he doesn't want to lose this anger, he can't be that fool again - and if he requires vodka to keep those emotions from fleeing, so be it.
Having the witcher suddenly block his way makes him flinch, but this time he's ready to fight back, the questions and the begging and just the possibility of that being actual worry finally make him snap.
"Tossed me aside like an old dog!" He cries out, hurt clear in his eyes, his voice, his scent. Only one hand gesturing since the other still has the vodka, but that has never been a problem when it comes to his dramatics. "Twenty years of loyalty-" Not so young after all, is he? Just like Dandelion, the young spirit carries on his looks as well. "-of trying to understand grunts, of holding your fucking guts! Only to be blamed for all the shit in your life!" You again, and some part of him knows it's incorrect, but he isn't thinking clearly at the moment. He only sees those golden eyes and white hair and the rage flows. "So go fuck yourself, Geralt of Rivia! Now move aside or I'll change the song to throw a bottle at your witcher!"
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Geralt is almost begging to talk. Geralt never begs, especially not to lose his blessed silence.
And so it's the alcohol that allows him to confront all this - which makes him even madder, because never has he need liquid bravery to use his tongue or to look at Geralt in the eye. The situation is unique, he reminds himself, he has all the right in the world to feel vulnerable and lost. Besides, he doesn't want to lose this anger, he can't be that fool again - and if he requires vodka to keep those emotions from fleeing, so be it.
Having the witcher suddenly block his way makes him flinch, but this time he's ready to fight back, the questions and the begging and just the possibility of that being actual worry finally make him snap.
"Tossed me aside like an old dog!" He cries out, hurt clear in his eyes, his voice, his scent. Only one hand gesturing since the other still has the vodka, but that has never been a problem when it comes to his dramatics. "Twenty years of loyalty-" Not so young after all, is he? Just like Dandelion, the young spirit carries on his looks as well. "-of trying to understand grunts, of holding your fucking guts! Only to be blamed for all the shit in your life!" You again, and some part of him knows it's incorrect, but he isn't thinking clearly at the moment. He only sees those golden eyes and white hair and the rage flows. "So go fuck yourself, Geralt of Rivia! Now move aside or I'll change the song to throw a bottle at your witcher!"