Many of them, certainly, but over the span of years, decades. Not anywhere near the kind of count that Jaskier or Dandelion got up to, but perhaps also not the complete dearth of the Geralt that Jaskier is familiar with. Somewhere in between.
But that's neither here nor there.
The bard sits next to him, their shoulders bumping like old friends. But Jaskier still smells like sadness and loss, a scent that he hasn't quite been able to shake since he got to this estate. But would it have been any better in his own world? In Oxenfurt? Or would he just be covering up the smell of heartbreak with ale and the perfume of one-night lovers?
Jaskier's hands strum a few chords, as though he can't stand to have them still. Nervous habit. Dandelion is much the same, getting fidgety in the fingers when he's upset or anxious. A helpful indicator of his mood, though, so Geralt really can't complain.
"Insulting a sorceress? A bold move," he says, and he's teasing him back. "But considering that your song is about how she's so devastatingly beautiful that she ruins men's lives, I don't know if she'll be insulted. Might even like it."
Probably not what he's going for, but better than having an angry sorceress on his ass. Not that Geralt thought that Yen would actually hurt Jaskier-- or Dandelion, as the case may be. If his version of her is anything like the one in this world, she doesn't bicker with him to waste her time, she does it for the entertainment, for the fun of it. The odd camaraderie she has with Dandelion would undoubtedly surprise this bard greatly. But maybe there's hope in that. If Dandelion and Yennefer can get past their squabbles, perhaps anyone can. There may be a day when even Jaskier doesn't loathe the sight of her.
But he doesn't want to talk about what's gone on with his Geralt, apparently. That's fine-- heartbreak, and whatnot. Requires time and space. There's plenty of space, at least, on the estate, so he could escape whenever he wishes to someplace witcher-less. As for time-- well, Geralt hopes that they have it. It's a bit on Yen's nebulous schedule.
"I could tell you about a hunt instead," he says, switching tactics. What do bards like better than talking about themselves? Hearing stories about something they could write a song on. And even if it's not song material, it's still a story. "Something that you haven't heard before."
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But that's neither here nor there.
The bard sits next to him, their shoulders bumping like old friends. But Jaskier still smells like sadness and loss, a scent that he hasn't quite been able to shake since he got to this estate. But would it have been any better in his own world? In Oxenfurt? Or would he just be covering up the smell of heartbreak with ale and the perfume of one-night lovers?
Jaskier's hands strum a few chords, as though he can't stand to have them still. Nervous habit. Dandelion is much the same, getting fidgety in the fingers when he's upset or anxious. A helpful indicator of his mood, though, so Geralt really can't complain.
"Insulting a sorceress? A bold move," he says, and he's teasing him back. "But considering that your song is about how she's so devastatingly beautiful that she ruins men's lives, I don't know if she'll be insulted. Might even like it."
Probably not what he's going for, but better than having an angry sorceress on his ass. Not that Geralt thought that Yen would actually hurt Jaskier-- or Dandelion, as the case may be. If his version of her is anything like the one in this world, she doesn't bicker with him to waste her time, she does it for the entertainment, for the fun of it. The odd camaraderie she has with Dandelion would undoubtedly surprise this bard greatly. But maybe there's hope in that. If Dandelion and Yennefer can get past their squabbles, perhaps anyone can. There may be a day when even Jaskier doesn't loathe the sight of her.
But he doesn't want to talk about what's gone on with his Geralt, apparently. That's fine-- heartbreak, and whatnot. Requires time and space. There's plenty of space, at least, on the estate, so he could escape whenever he wishes to someplace witcher-less. As for time-- well, Geralt hopes that they have it. It's a bit on Yen's nebulous schedule.
"I could tell you about a hunt instead," he says, switching tactics. What do bards like better than talking about themselves? Hearing stories about something they could write a song on. And even if it's not song material, it's still a story. "Something that you haven't heard before."