Jaskier's finger pokes him in the chest, though it's about as effective as poking at a rock. The huffy, offended expression that he levels at the witcher is still kind of endearing, like an angry puppy nipping at his heels.

"It's nothing important," he says, and that's probably an answer that he'd heard before from the emotionally incompetent Geralt, too. "And it isn't anything that you could answer, anyway."

He wouldn't know what's in Dandelion's mind, after all. They're similar, not literally the same person.

The bard is only a few steps away when he stops, something apparently on his mind. Something important, since it makes his scent go strangely anxious and insecure. All of the qualifiers before he gets to the actual question are also concerning, though they do make him terribly curious as to what he's so worried about. Something that could sound like a proposition? What, is he going to ask what Dandelion's like in bed, or, even worse, what Geralt is like in bed?

The answer, of course, is good, though for one awkward moment, Geralt wonders if some aspects of his sex life with the bard would be... surprising, or if he'd pegged Geralt as quickly as Dandelion had.

Do you think I'm attractive?

Well. That's certainly a tamer question than Geralt was expecting.

He takes a moment and lets his eyes wander over the bard's figure, going from the bottom up. He's tall, though not as tall as Dandelion, broad shouldered and sturdy. His clever tailoring hides some of it, making him look more delicate than he is. There's a boyish charm to his features, and his eyes are so very blue, like cornflowers.

"Yes," he replies, standing up from his spot under the window. "You are an attractive man."

He gives the bard a wry smile. "Fishing for compliments?"