Jaskier turns to the sound of a very deep voice, already noticing the lack of greeting in return (Jaskier doesn't need clerks to go out of their way to be over the top welcoming, but would a "hello" really hurt?) but the little frown on his face barely lasts two seconds when he sees who exactly is in charge of his place.
A bloody adonis.
He worries his worry lip as he feels his throat going dry at the sight. The man is big and incredibly well built, thicker and stronger than a brick house; the hair is white and long, making Jaskier wish he could run his fingers through it. He's a father, too, which means this is his first time meeting a true DILF, one that apparently loves animals and has a voice that probably could make you come just by talking dirty into your ear.
Hopefully the lack of greeting was only a slip and he isn't actually rude, otherwise he'll have to text his sister and go through his bisexual crisis for the second time in his life.
(If you ask Elizabeth, she thinks her brother goes through a bisexual crisis every other day.)
Snapping himself out of it by clearing his voice, Jaskier hurries in direction of the man, reminding himself that this isn't a bar and the ranch looks like a place he'd like to visit again in the future, so he can't fuck up. For the sake of his lovely follower, as well. So his charm will be on, but not overly flirty. Gotta test the waters first - hell, maybe the man is as straight they come.
"I have! I used to ride all the time when I was a child." When he reaches the adonis' side, Jaskier gets a better look of his face and ugh, those eyes are as golden as the flower that names him and that jaw could smash rocks. How can one man be so unfairly handsome? With his best smile on his face, he offers a hand to shake. "Hi, I'm Jaskier. I recently moved to the city, and your daughter I believe? Recommended this place on Twitter."
The young man stares for a moment or two when he turns towards Geralt, but that's fine-- he's used to that kind of reaction. He knows that his appearance is intimidating, and in general, he prefers it that way, but it's sometimes a bit of a barrier to getting customers to come back. He tries, at least, to not be too frightening to children, but he still has all the muscle that he put on while he had nothing else to do in prison except work out and read, so he can't help but take up space. Built like a brick shithouse, Yen used to say, and that was even before he bulked up a bit. Now he's built like a brick shithouse on steroids or something.
Well. He could at least try not to scare this guy off, especially because he claims to already know how to ride. If Geralt really doesn't have to babysit him while he's here and he's interested in more than just a one-off thing, than he could be a consistent, easy customer who won't cause him any grief.
"Geralt," he replies, and gives the offered hand a brief shake. Then the man keeps talking, and the misgivings start to emerge again. Geralt frowns, his brow furrowing in a manner that he knows makes people nervous.
"How do you know my daughter?" Is he going to have to start keeping better track of what Ciri does on the internet? He knew he shouldn't have let her get that Twitter thing, she's always on it and he never knows what she's looking at. Something about memes, whatever those are. "She's too young to be talking to you."
He's going to have to sit Ciri down and have the Stranger Danger talk, isn't he. Talking to strange men on the internet, what's she thinking? If this creep keeps showing up and trying to talk to her or meet her or god help him, look at her funny, Geralt will kick his ass all the way back to the city.
Still no hello, but the guy introduces himself (even his name is manly as fuck, bloody hell) and accepts the handshake, which means he isn't rude, just kinda awkward. Limited human interaction over living with horses, perhaps? Honestly, it comes as a relief, so maybe things can go well after all.
...or maybe not. The question confuses him, since he's already explained how he knows the girl (through Twitter!) and then shock comes when Geralt adds the rest. Going extremely pale, Jaskier gasps and takes a step back, his voice reaching a high pitch when he replies with obvious nervousness.
"...bollocks. No! Nonononono, it's nothing like that!" He explains as he shakes his hands. "I'm a musician! She likes my music! She's a fan. How could I-- Ah, wait, just give me a second--"
He reaches into his pocket to take out his very extra looking phone (how does he keep it in those very tight pants, nobody knows) and proceeds to open Twitter, finding the thread with the girl quite easily since he liked it to have the ranch information at hand (but he stills murmurs fuck over and over during the whole process).
"Here, see? I don't even follow her back." He shows Geralt the conversation, then taps on the girl's username to access her account. A blue button offers to follow the account, and he's obviously not pressed it ever. "She likes my tweets and occasionally comments to discuss music or a funny meme. I don't even know her age or if that's her real name. That's all, I can swear on my guitar."
And that's one hell of a swear, because his guitar is his fucking life.
The city guy-- Jaskier-- starts backpedaling immediately in the face of Geralt's Angry Father face, which is really the only sensible thing for anyone to do in that situation. He repeatedly denies anything untoward about his interactions with Ciri, digging out his very fancy looking smartphone from his absurdly tight pants-- really, is that the fashion these days?-- to show Geralt the messages that they had sent. He peers at the screen, and it does look like the start of the conversation was a video that he had posted, and the thumbnail showed him sitting with his guitar. The music thing, at least, checks out.
He shows Geralt his daughter's profile, and the 'follow' button on it is clearly not active. Geralt hmms at it, and though his various grunts and nonverbal replies can be difficult to decipher without enough exposure, it doesn't sound as irritated as before. Maybe he can believe that this guy isn't here to creep on his only child. Maybe.
"Fine."
Was Ciri's username on this thing really 'by-the-power-of-SCREAMING'? Sure, he'd heard the stories of how she used to scream her lungs out as a child, but apparently she's embraced her sordid noisy past.
"It better stay that way." Well, he's already ruined whatever good first impression he could make here, might as well make it very clear that his daughter is so far Off Limits that she might as well be on the fucking moon.
"So. You're here to ride." Back to business and less terrifying avenues of conversation. "What style did you learn and what do you want to do?"
Both questions are necessary information for him to know how to get this kid set up. Though, he's going to see just how much this guy actually knows before he lets him loose with one of his horses. Jaskier wouldn't be the first idiot to walk in and try to lie to him about knowing his ass from a saddle.
"It will, I promise." He says with his best innocent face, both hands up in surrender. "In fact, I can come around when she isn't home, if that helps. You're just protecting her, being a good father. I can respect that."
Because yeah, now the initial scare is wearing off and the conversation replays in his head, he understands how the misunderstanding happened. In fact, he would've reacted with suspicion too if it had been about his sister. So this first impression? Far from bad. Not the best, for sure, but not enough to scare him off either. Geralt is a good dad, already showing more care in a couple of minutes that Jaskier's own father has ever shown for him in his entire life.
So he isn't only a DILF, he's a sweet DILF. His heart (and his dick) won't survive this.
Business talk is back, and Jaskier considers it a good sign, so he comes closer again, both to hear him better and to have a better look of those amazing eyes.
"English style. Always leisure riding, I was never one for competitions or polo. Blegh."
He pulls a face at the idea of sports, obviously this is the artist of the family. No, polo has always been his brother's thing, perfect handsome Frederick with his perfect beard and his perfect manners and perfect boring girlfriend. Some times Jaskier has to wonder how he and Lizzie are related to him.
"And that's what I'm looking for now as well. To unwind. To get on a horse and relax for a few hours, have lunch while lying on the grass and maybe compose a bit if inspiration strikes."
If that's allowed in the first place, but he figures that if the guitar was a problem, Geralt would've already told him so the minute he saw it. It's not exactly a small object to go unnoticed, now is it?
Geralt's trying his fucking damnedest to be a good dad, and hopefully he'll succeed. He just wants his daughter to grow up safe and happy, with preferably as few men creeping on her as is physically possible. He can play a part in that by physically intimidating any man who tries to get weird with her, and also by taking her to her martial arts classes.
She has a mean right hook.
Jaskier mentions polo and, taking into account his whole... everything, to be honest, just everything that Geralt is seeing right in front of him, he assumes that this kid is some kind of money. Rich parents, probably, who had their kid take English riding lessons and maybe forced him to do showjumping or something. Well, if that is the case, the one good thing is that rich kids usually get good lessons.
"I don't let anyone take one of my horses by themselves until I know they can handle it," he says. "And no one goes up on the trails alone. For safety."
Buddy system, always. If something happens out on the trail, there needs to be someone else there to either help or get help, preferably someone who knows the land well. And, really, that person is generally Geralt himself-- he usually leads the group trail rides, but he doesn't often get singles. Most people also don't want to be out in the wilderness alone with Geralt.
Geralt tips his head towards the barn, indicating for Jaskier to follow him back down.
Trails. So Geralt does some kind of excursion service, that's nice. Good to know, too - once he starts making friends in the city, this could be a fun activity to do in groups. It could also be a great spot for dates, but that will only be a thing if Mr Adonis doesn't show interest in him. And Jaskier doesn't give up easily.
It also means one-on-one outings are probably uncommon, so Jaskier is getting a rather exclusive service. He won't read much into it - obviously the guy is just doing his job. But hey, at least so far he hasn't annoyed him into not wanting to be alone with him, that equals good first impression, right? Even after the little Twitter issue.
Leisure alone time with horses and Incredibly Handsome Brickhouse. This is turning out to be an excellent Saturday.
"Trust and safety come first, understood." You can take me to the trails any time you want, he doesn't add. He tries to look serious when he nods but he's already beaming with excitement, his body as bouncy as a rubber ball. "My whole day is free, so if I'm not keeping you from anything--" He opens his arms. "Lead the way!"
Hopefully 'showing him around' doesn't include staying silence, because Jaskier doesn't go in for that. As they walk to the barn, he has all kinds of questions for the very mysterious man. "So is it just you and your daughter here? Do you breed and/or sell horses as well? Do you know how to ride in all the styles?"
Would you ride me too or I don't have the equipment you like? is the one he saves for himself.
City boy over here is excitable; the fact that Geralt hasn't turned him out on his ear is apparently all the encouragement that he needs. It's kind of surprising, because usually anyone over the age of fourteen isn't terribly excited about horses, unless they're Geralt. And even Geralt doesn't get bouncy.
"Hm."
The man couldn't manage to stay silent for more than a minute, firing questions off at Geralt as though he physically couldn't contain them in his body. It's... a little overwhelming, and a little annoying. Thankfully he'd trained all of the horses and knows that they aren't skittish, even around ridiculously talkative city boys.
"Yes. Not usually. Yes," he replies, and if he uses the fewest number of syllables possible in this conversation, maybe the kid will get a hint.
Geralt opens the door to the barn and leads him inside, to where the horses are kept. A few of the more curious ones stick their heads out of their stalls, looking at Geralt and the newcomer with big, soft eyes; the others are too busy with their breakfasts to pay them any mind.
"The horses," he says. "Names are on the stall. Don't touch Roach."
He leads him to the store room where the tack is kept, all of the saddles and blankets and bridles, as well as the tools needed for caring for the horses before and after riding them, like the brushes and hoof picks. He shows him the indoor arena, where he'll teach lessons or train the horses, especially if it's too rainy to have the horses outside. And there's a room in the back that's like a break room, with a refrigerator and some chairs and such so that you could keep your lunch there and have it after a lesson or trail ride. It's not the biggest barn, but it's clean and organized and well maintained, and it serves its purpose well.
"Keep your things in the break room. Let's see if you actually know what you're doing."
Oh, he does see the hint - Geralt wouldn't be the first person to try to use such hint against Jaskier's babbling. But will he take the hint? That's a completely different question.
(The answer is no.)
To be fair, Jaskier is looking forward to see the horses as well, even if they aren't the sole reason for his bounciness. He gasps when when a few of them stick their heads out when they enter the barn, already in love with their friendliness - those big soft eyes are so precious. 'Roach' is a funny (weird) name for a horse, but Jaskier just hums as a reply - if he can't touch it, it means it's a dangerous horse that will probably kick him, and his poetic mind is already filling in the gaps between 'roach' and 'garbage attitude'.
It's alright, his heart is already set on the curious cuties, because peeking out when new people are around matches Jaskier's personality. He'll choose from among them.
The place is bigger than it looks, and Jaskier is nothing but impressed, especially by the indoor area. Not something he would use, since the point of riding for him is to go outside and unwind, but it's a nice detail to know that exists. Nothing is out of place, nothing is broken or dirty, and Jaskier can see the girl's recommendation had been more than a way to promote her dad's business. It's genuinely great.
"You've got something amazing here, Geralt, especially for a man working alone. I can see your care in every corner." And he means every word, urge to flirt set aside for a moment.
Part of Jaskier doesn't want to leave his things in the break room - the entire point is to take a horse to the country side and eat and compose under the sun! He understands he must pass some tests first, though, safety and all, so he does do as Geralt says (if he pouts a bit while he does so, well, no biggie). He leaves his satchel on top of the table and his guitar on one of the chairs, which means now the case is displaying all its stickers. There are the obligatory music ones of course: a yellow submarine, music notes, a zeppelin, the quote "Don't stop me now". But there is not-music-related stuff as well: the quote "I have no fear only love", a cute little serpent peeking out from under a green and silver scarf, Stitch with an ukelele, and the bisexual flag.
(He wonders if Geralt would even recognize it.)
"Pegasus. That was name of the white one, right?" His eyes had fallen on it as soon as the horse had peeked out of its stall - white as the horses princes ride in the stories. His romantic heart instantly knew what his choice would be, and that's what he tells Geralt now. "I'd love to start with it. Don't worry, this is like riding a bike - your body never forgets."
Or at least, he hopes so. He hasn't go riding since he was a child, but he can't get nervous in front of Handsome And Silent. Gotta keep the bravado up, make a good impression.
Jaskier leaves his things in the room, setting his bag on the table and his instrument case on one of the chairs. It's covered in a bunch of bright stickers, the kind that Ciri would probably like, including a little Beatles yellow submarine and a Queen quote, all references that he gets. He recognizes the little blue alien thing from that one Disney movie, and there's... a square with some stripes? Maybe it's a flag. He doesn't recognize the color pattern; it's probably not a country, but he seems young enough that he isn't long out of college, so maybe it's a student organization?
Whatever. Probably doesn't matter. He doesn't really care what affiliations this guy likes to put on his cases or laptop or whatever, he cares about whether he knows his ass from a hoof pick. Whether he can trust the guy alone with his horses for five minutes or if he's going to have to babysit him through getting a saddle on.
The city boy expresses interest in riding Pegasus, and that's not the worst choice that he could make. Pegasus is even-tempered and quite gentle, and was one of the curious horses that had poked his head out when they came in. Generally friendly. Geralt nods, approving of his choice, though even if Jaskier had chosen poorly, he still probably would've let him try-- if only to see him bite off more than he could chew.
"Get him on a lead and get him tacked up. I want to see you in the indoor arena."
And Geralt planned to watch him through the process, to see just how much he bumbled and how much he actually knew. This is the practical exam, Jask, try to take it seriously.
"Yesssssir." He replies with two fingers against his forehead.
Look, he is taking this seriously. But that doesn't mean he can't tease a bit as well, right?
Jaskier approaches Pegasus slowly, offering his hand ahead of him and petting his face when the horse confirms to be friendly and gentle. Smiling with excitement, Jaskier speaks to him with a soft voice. He's never had pets, the horses of the Pankratz stables not really counting as such, but he does like their company in the rare chances he gets to interact with them.
"Hello, beautiful. It's nice to meet you. Let's get you ready for a ride, mmh? I hope you can be patient with me, it's been a while."
He does remember how to do this, but as he said, he's out of practice, so he fumbles a couple of times. The order he nails: square pad, puffier half pad, saddle, tightening the girth, putting on the bridle. They slip off once or twice, but Jaskier keeps going and tries again, interrupting his singing to apologize to Pegasus when it happens. Because of course he sings while he works, not too loud not to upset the horses, The Horse Nobody Could Ride having invaded his head and not wanting to leave until he sings it whole.
Slowly but surely, Jaskier gets Pegasus ready and carefully guides him out of his stall, blue eyes turning to Geralt looking proud and nervous at the same time.
"So? Do I pass the test so far, Master Equestrian?"
Geralt waits while Jaskier busies himself with the tack. He at least seems familiar with it; he gets the right things, which is a good start, and knows the order to put them on the horse in. The half pad slips off once or twice while he's trying to lift the saddle onto Pegasus' back, but that's a common enough mistake. More the result of being out of practice than anything, so not surprising when he's said it's been some time since he rode last.
Jaskier sings songs about horses to his horse. Geralt can't decide if it's sweet or annoying.
He leads the horse out and before they go to the arena, Geralt checks over his work. The saddle's in the right position, pad and blanket are good, the bridle's on right. Geralt tugs on the girth, and it's too loose; saddle would slide off if he tried to mount. He lefts the stirrup flap and tightens it, and Pegasus huffs in protest and flicks his tail.
"Pegasus is a little shit," he says. "He puffs his stomach up when you tighten the girth. Gotta check it before you get on."
He says it with a sort of soft affection, patting the horse's neck once he finished tightening up the girth, then running his hand up to Pegasus' ears and running his thumb along the soft inside of one of them. By the way the horse's head tilts into the touch, it's a welcome one.
"The rest is passable. Come on," he says, and heads towards the arena, opening up the gate so that Jaskier could lead the horse through. He'd close it again once they were safely inside.
"Mount and walk him around the perimeter a few times. Trot when you're ready."
He wants to see how much Jaskier remembers about proper posture and posting, and if he can just in general control a horse and get it to do what he wants and go where he wants.
Geralt doesn't fall for any of his teasing, which is a bit disappointing. He doesn't seem to be bothered by it either, though, so that's something? Jaskier will take it as a good sign anyway.
What he doesn't expect is suddenly seeing this brick wall of a man going all soft and affectionate for his horse. Bollocks. How can one guy be so hot and so kind at the same time? Built like the statue of a Greek god, good with animals, and a caring dad too judging from his earlier reaction. Jaskier can already feel a crush forming - it's not surprising, really, he's falling for people all the fucking time, but this is a new record. His sister is going to destroy him when he calls her later.
"Pegasus, you fiend!" He exclaims with a gasp, a hand going to his chest. Someone likes being dramatic. "I thought we were becoming friends!"
Luckily for Pegasus, he's cute as fuck, and Jaskier doesn't really mean his indignation. What he does mean is the huff that escapes his lips when Geralt calls his work passable. Wow, strict much?
(Then again, he has no room to complain, no student of his is allowed to play too freely with his instruments either - at least not until they know what they're doing.)
He has better expectations for the next part, though. Like riding a bike, he had said, and he means it. His body remembers the motions, no different of it knowing every step to a dance (and Jaskier is a great dancer). Mounting Pegasus on his first try makes him grateful for deciding to take up yoga to keep his body flexible (his bed partners have thanked him for it as well), and after that, it's muscle memory.
There are some differences that Jaskier discovers when he starts walking him around the perimeter as Geralt instructed him, which if he has to guess, has to do with the simple fact he's grown up, because his legs feel a bit different around the horse from what he remembers. He ends up walking for longer than he planned, getting used to those new details, but once his body gets the message? The trotting appears, and only it takes two perimeters rounds before the trotting becomes cantering - which Geralt didn't mention, but Jaskier has lost himself in the riding, memories taking over and reminding him of that wonderful sense of freedom he'd get from one of the few activities that allowed him to pretend he was running away from that awful house.
So excuse him as he starts laughing - it's not at anything in particular. Just an expression of how giddy, fun and simply light his heart is feeling at the moment.
Jaskier mounts up with relative ease, and that speaks to his experience quite well-- complete novices are awkward when getting on a horse and would usually have to take a few tries to manage it. He starts walking Pegasus easily enough, Geralt walking in the center of the arena to keep an eye on him, but that's only to be expected. Almost anyone can walk a horse around once they get on their back.
He squeezes the horse into a trot after a few passes, and Geralt watches his form with a practiced eye; the set of his heels in the stirrup, his posture in the saddle, how he holds the reins. The rhythm of his posting. Everything about how he sits screams proper English tutoring, someone who has been taught how to ride for showjumping or dressage. He posts properly on the diagonal without Geralt needing to tell him, has the proper angle in his elbows and knees. Put him in high boots and breeches and a jacket and he wouldn't look out of place at a dressage competition or polo match, regardless of what he said earlier about never doing those.
Geralt hadn't told him to canter, but he does it anyway, knowing the cue for the horse by muscle-memory. Pegasus canters like a dream, though, one of the smoothest that Geralt's had the pleasure of training. Practically feels like flying. Jaskier sits it nicely, too, and he can't really fault him for laughing, not when he's on this horse and has the confidence to ride him well.
He lets the city boy canter for a while, watching him from the center of the arena, until he lets Pegasus wind back down to a trot.
He'll be fine, Geralt thinks. Jaskier might be a dramatic city boy, but he at least can ride a horse. Hell, with a little practice and maybe a touch of instruction, he'd be more than just capable, he'd be good; might call him pretty, even.
"You can take him to the outdoor arena, if you want," he says. "I've got frames for jumps if you want me to set a few up for you."
"No need for frames." He replies as he shakes his head. Jumping reminds him of competition bullshit, of being told to be a good little boy, and that's not what he came for. Jaskier rides for the feeling of flying. "Riding is enough. Pegasus is wind itself, smoother than the most expensive silk."
He pats the horse on the neck to go along with his compliment - he's not just being poetic for the sake of chatting up Geralt, he truly means it. And this is coming from a guy that has ridden some of the most expensive horses in England - goes to show that what really matters are your skills and not your breeding. (A lesson Jaskier obviously keeps close to his heart.)
When they get outside, Jaskier once again starts with a walk to get used to his surroundings, and this time he falls into a trot then a canter much quicker, feeling more confident. Part of him wants to jump over the fence and ride up the trail, away from everything: from the loneliness, the need to finish unpacking, missing his sister, his friends, having blue balls, and also that horrible American tea. The wind on his face feels fantastic, at least, and it does help him relax and forget. He would close his eyes if he wasn't incredibly sure that Geralt would scold him for it.
Speaking of Geralt... has he been waiting by the fence all this freaking time? Watching him? Jaskier can't help the feeling of something turning in his stomach, which is quite silly really - he's a performer and an attention whore. Even if Geralt is only doing this because of his job, Jaskier should be loving having those eyes on him. He kinda does, but at the same time, something bothers him...
Ah. Riding used to be his alone time, away from the family. Not even Lizzie would come along when he used to run away from the house. What bothers him is a (very dishy) stranger getting to see him like this... he almost feels naked. Does he look any different, he wonders, but he can't ask - Geralt doesn't know him well enough to be able to tell the difference.
Hopefully that changes soon in the future.
Pegasus is brought back to a trot by a very determined Jaskier that won't let this chance escape his calloused fingers. One of the wonderful things about having a powerful voice is that he can naturally chitchat while riding a horse and still make himself heard above Pegasus' clippity-clop.
"You must be the most patient bloke I've ever met, Geralt, and I've hanged out with students that made some extra money by posing for art majors. Don't you get bored by just standing there?" After a pause, he can't stop himself from being a flirty ass anymore. "I don't know if my ego can take all this lovely attention."
Once Jaskier was in the arena, Geralt closes the gate behind him and leans up against the fence, watching him take a few laps since he doesn't want any frames up for jumps. He goes through the paces quicker this time, walk to trot to canter, and now that Pegasus is a little warmed up, he's eager to stretch his legs. He's always a little spunky the first time he's ridden during the day, but that energy seems to suit Jaskier just fine.
There's a look on the city boy's face that's-- blissful, maybe, or exhilarated. There's something about riding that he clearly loves, and that's... something worth encouraging. Even if he's a ridiculous city boy with silly fashion and an instrument case covered in ridiculous stickers, Geralt wants to have people here who have passion and drive, not somebody who's being forced into lessons because their parents want them to. No forced polo stars or unwilling showjumpers.
And if all Jaskier ultimately wants to do is go up on trails when the weather's nice and hang out somewhere scenic and do whatever it is that musicians do, than that's fine, so long as he does it safely.
Pegasus backs down to a trot, snorting and tossing his head-- willing to run more if Jaskier will let him-- and the musician tosses out a question as he posts past Geralt's spot on the rails. There's a flippant edge to his tone that Geralt would think is flirtatious if Jaskier had been a woman.
"Have to make sure you don't get thrown and break your neck," he says on Jaskier's next pass. "Break my daughter's heart if you end up dead and can't blog your videos."
That's absolutely not the correct term for what he does, but Geralt also doesn't care. Twitter, Instagram, Youtube, it's all blogging, right?
Pegasus' little shit energy absolutely suits Jaskier's just fine, it isn't the poor guy's fault that Jaskier has the hots for his master. The snorting and tossing of his head get him some petting on the neck - easy boy, running will be back soon, just let the bisexual disaster get some flirting done first.
Look at that, Hotstuff has a sense of humor! Oh, how delightful, another point goes to that quickly developing crush. Jaskier throws his head back and laughs, taking a moment to try to get a read of the guy - has he understood the flirting? Is he joking along like bros would do, totally unaware? While Jaskier hates stereotypes, he is also very aware of what his flamboyant manners come off as...
Then again, the bloke just said blog. Which is adorable, but also a big sign of not being exactly up with the times. Oh boy, this one is going to be difficult to navigate.
"What will break your daughter's heart is hearing you talk about the internet like that. I was going to ask you if you would take some pictures of me with Pegasus here, who by the way is an absolute darling, but now I'm worried my phone may be too much technology for you." His tone is teasing as he slow downs in front of Geralt on his next pass. "How old are you anyway? You have the body of a Greek god statue, not a ranch dad."
Probably too much, but with a guy that seems to be living in the past, better be direct, he supposes.
Jaskier laughs, and the sound makes something thrill along Geralt's spine, just for a moment. It's... nice, he supposes. The musician's got a nice laugh, throaty and delighted, and it's been a while since Geralt's met someone who's so completely unafraid of him right out of the gate. Maybe not since Yen. Pretty much everyone else takes one look at his massive frame and resting bitch face and pegs him as a brute.
This guy is teasing him. No one does that except for his foster brothers, and they only do it because they're just as big as he is and know that his bark is far worse than his bite. If Jaskier were a woman, some pretty little thing that he could pick up one-handed--
Well, he isn't. Jaskier's a man, and Geralt's not interested in big blue eyes and long legs on men.
"Don't even have a cell phone," he says, which isn't true at all but he's fucking with this guy. He does have a cell phone, but it's one of those flip phones with only the most basic functions. It makes calls and sends text messages, what else does he need? "Could get my Polaroid if you want a photo."
That's not actually a lie-- he does have an old Polaroid in his closet and some instant film packets in his fridge. And don't these hipster types love their vintage shit?
He comments on Geralt's indeterminable age and the fact that he's built like a brick shithouse, though he's much more complimentary than most people are. A Greek statue, he hasn't gotten that one before. (He's partly right-- there are many ways that Geralt is built like a Greek statue, and one very important way that he isn't. But Jaskier wouldn't be interested in that anyway.)
"Hm." Since Jaskier asked the million dollar question, though, he gets to deal with the consequences. "Guess."
Ball's in your court, musician, try not to offend the hot ranch dad.
"A Polaroid? How vintage of you. I don't mind the idea, actually. I promise to tip." And he means it, meaning Geralt did guess right about this particular hipster. "I have to wonder about the phone, however. A teen daughter but no phone seems unlikely, yet so far everything about you tells me you're such a dad, I could totally buy it."
A dad is said with amusement, no negative connotation at all. It's cute, really. He's that cozy kind of dad stuck in his old ways but not insulting of the new ones, as far as Jaskier can tell. His daughter is allowed to have a smart phone and social media, and there haven't been any passive-aggressive jabs thrown at Jaskier's own phone or online work, only playful teasing. It's the kind of vintage he can get behind - a respectful one.
Geralt throws the question back at him, and Jaskier decides to stop Pegasus in front of him for a better look. He makes sure to make a humming noise to show he's taking a moment to think carefully and that's why he's checking the adonis over, not for other reasons. (Except there totally are other reasons, like the way the sunlight falls on those golden eyes and those muscles flex against the fence. Damn.)
"Bollocks, it's harder than it looks. If you're making me guess it's because you're either much younger or much older than you look, and you want me to screw up. If I end up insulting you, I'm putting all the blame on you." He tilts his head, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he considers all his options. It can't be younger, no after everything they just discussed. "Forty-two, perhaps?"
Geralt can't fault anyone for making money however they have to. If Jaskier does it by putting his music up on Youtube or Instagram or whatever, more power to him. If it gets him a record deal somewhere in the future, even better. Though he can't really say if the musician is good enough for that kind of thing, so hey, maybe Youtube is the height of his career. Who knows.
Jaskier walks the horse over and stands there for a few moments, looking down at Geralt with an appraising gaze. Geralt crosses his arms and leans against the rail, and if that particular stance just so happens to emphasize how large his biceps are and how his chest fills out his shirt, well. That's just coincidence. He only does that sort of thing on purpose around women that he wants to impress.
"Too high," he says. Forty-two isn't too far off, but he hasn't quite hit the wrong side of forty yet. He's still got a few years of his thirties left. "Try again."
It's the prematurely gray hair, that throws people off every time. He's gotten guesses anywhere between thirty and fifty, mostly from people not believing that a man can be under forty and completely gray.
Those biceps could snap him in half and that chest looks perfect to take a nap on. Honestly, Jaskier wouldn't mind either of those things, he'd happily go for them right here on grass - or maybe bent over the fence. That is, if Geralt does like doing the bending instead of being bent. Jaskier tries not to judge by appearances, it's always the bears that turn out to be the softest.
He should probably not think that far before even learning what equipment Geralt requires for said bending, but Jaskier knows better than trying to stop his brain. It already knows what images will be brought in the shower later.
"But you are older than me, I can tell that much." He replies as he takes the excuse to appraise Geralt once again. Flexing because he bats for Jaskier's team, or simply a gym rat that likes to show off? What gym would that be so he can, err, visit? "Thirty five?"
That would make it only seven years between them - not bad at all. Although he supposed his sister and friends would have less to say about the age and more about the whole single father deal.
(Thinking too much ahead again. Damn, this crush isn't pulling any punches.)
There's a gym that Geralt sometimes goes to if he's going to be in town anyway, because even though he has a lot of workout equipment at home, he doesn't have absolutely everything-- it's not a regular part of his routine, though. Just a sometimes thing, he could have the special gym equipment, as a treat.
Not that he would ever expect to see this guy in a gym, nevertheless actually exercising. Maybe for an Insta-whatever picture wearing some sponsored fashionable workout clothes.
"I am, unless your baby face is really lying to me."
Not that it isn't a nice face, he supposes, with his very blue eyes and animated features and soft mouth. He's probably pretty, for a man, it's just that he looks young. And, hell, he's probably a real ladykiller, those musician types usually are. Probably just gives them a soft look with those blue eyes and says something sweet and sensitive and has all the pretty girls eating out of his hand.
"Close. Split the difference," he says. "Thirty-eight."
Ten years between them, though Geralt doesn't know that quite yet. Not that it matters, anyway, he's just letting the guy ride his horses, it's not like he's taking him out. Even if he was a woman, and interested, that would be too much of an age gap, right? He's almost forty and has a kid, he's not the kind of person that twenty-something musicians with aspirations of fame and glory would want to hang around.
So... ten years. Damn. To be fair, it's less of what he would expect from the father of a teen girl. He had her at his twenties, that's hella young in this day and age (and accident maybe? Geralt isn't wearing a ring, that's one of the first things Jaskier always checks). But hey, half your age plus seven, right? Jaskier fits the math, and they're both working adults with lives of their own... The spirit is what matters!
(His sister is going to hate this.)
"Thirty-eight. Bloody hell - my compliments to your working-out routine, good sir." He grins then, hands and legs moving to get Pegasus into a walk again. "This baby face can play this game as well. Let's see how old you think I am. I'll even give you time to figure it out, Master Equestrian."
And with a wink, he's off, asking Pegasus to canter again as he starts singing...
The fact that song happens to be Stacy's Mom is just a coincidence.
Jaskier canters off on Pegasus, giving Geralt some time to think about how he wants to answer this question. He's young, but old enough to likely be finished with college. Not quite old enough to not be absolutely ridiculous. Mid-twenties seems like a safe enough guess, and one that won't be terribly offensive to his customer.
Is it unprofessional to be having this kind of conversation with a customer? Probably, but there's nothing to it. They're just talking. Hell, Ciri would be proud of him for holding a whole conversation with a new person without being so weird and gruff that it drives them off. It's progress or whatever. Set reasonable and attainable goals, his therapist would say.
He recognizes the song that Jaskier sings when he canters by, that hit from the early 2000's that came out just a few years before he went to prison. So the kid likes older women? Nothing wrong with that, Geralt supposes, but Jaskier better not be hoping that he'll introduce him to some. If he wants to find some hot forty-something sugar mama, he can do his own legwork.
"Twenty-five," he says the next time Jaskier slows down. A safe guess. "And I probably don't work out as much as you think."
Sure, he hits his home gym almost every day, but he gets plenty of exercise from his daily work and chores. Hauling bales of hay and mucking stalls and all that is hard work, even when he does have some help come around.
If it's unprofessional to have this kind of conversation with employees, then Jaskier hasn't gotten that memo. He has a very long history of befriending (and hitting on) waiters, cashiers, clerks, bartenders, DJs, nurses, doctors, cops, even a cleaning lady. As long as it doesn't get in the way of their jobs, he doesn't see the problem with it.
"Ha! You may want to add three years to that. Close enough, though, so not bad." The rest of that comment, however, makes him snort and roll his eyes. "Oh, please. You aren't just fit, you are sculpted. There's a sign above your head that screams 'gym rat'."
It's not a complaint - far from it. He said he sends his regards to Geralt's work-out routine for a reason, why can't the guy take a compliment? Is he actually this humble or is he trying to fuck with him? He wouldn't mind the latter if it is followed by a different kind of fucking.
Since he's slowed Pegasus down again, Jaskier takes the chance to take out his phone and hand it to Geralt, camera app already open. "Would you do me the honors? I did mean my promise to tip." He makes Pegasus step back then so they can both fully fit in the picture, and Jaskier offers his brightest, most charming smile.
If Geralt hits home after taking the photo, accident or not, he'll find the screen filled with app icons and picture as wallpaper: a selfie taken from above of Jaskier pressing his cheek against a cute girl's, long blonde hair up in a messy bun and eyes as blue as his.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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A bloody adonis.
He worries his worry lip as he feels his throat going dry at the sight. The man is big and incredibly well built, thicker and stronger than a brick house; the hair is white and long, making Jaskier wish he could run his fingers through it. He's a father, too, which means this is his first time meeting a true DILF, one that apparently loves animals and has a voice that probably could make you come just by talking dirty into your ear.
Hopefully the lack of greeting was only a slip and he isn't actually rude, otherwise he'll have to text his sister and go through his bisexual crisis for the second time in his life.
(If you ask Elizabeth, she thinks her brother goes through a bisexual crisis every other day.)
Snapping himself out of it by clearing his voice, Jaskier hurries in direction of the man, reminding himself that this isn't a bar and the ranch looks like a place he'd like to visit again in the future, so he can't fuck up. For the sake of his lovely follower, as well. So his charm will be on, but not overly flirty. Gotta test the waters first - hell, maybe the man is as straight they come.
"I have! I used to ride all the time when I was a child." When he reaches the adonis' side, Jaskier gets a better look of his face and ugh, those eyes are as golden as the flower that names him and that jaw could smash rocks. How can one man be so unfairly handsome? With his best smile on his face, he offers a hand to shake. "Hi, I'm Jaskier. I recently moved to the city, and your daughter I believe? Recommended this place on Twitter."
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Well. He could at least try not to scare this guy off, especially because he claims to already know how to ride. If Geralt really doesn't have to babysit him while he's here and he's interested in more than just a one-off thing, than he could be a consistent, easy customer who won't cause him any grief.
"Geralt," he replies, and gives the offered hand a brief shake. Then the man keeps talking, and the misgivings start to emerge again. Geralt frowns, his brow furrowing in a manner that he knows makes people nervous.
"How do you know my daughter?" Is he going to have to start keeping better track of what Ciri does on the internet? He knew he shouldn't have let her get that Twitter thing, she's always on it and he never knows what she's looking at. Something about memes, whatever those are. "She's too young to be talking to you."
He's going to have to sit Ciri down and have the Stranger Danger talk, isn't he. Talking to strange men on the internet, what's she thinking? If this creep keeps showing up and trying to talk to her or meet her or god help him, look at her funny, Geralt will kick his ass all the way back to the city.
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...or maybe not. The question confuses him, since he's already explained how he knows the girl (through Twitter!) and then shock comes when Geralt adds the rest. Going extremely pale, Jaskier gasps and takes a step back, his voice reaching a high pitch when he replies with obvious nervousness.
"...bollocks. No! Nonononono, it's nothing like that!" He explains as he shakes his hands. "I'm a musician! She likes my music! She's a fan. How could I-- Ah, wait, just give me a second--"
He reaches into his pocket to take out his very extra looking phone (how does he keep it in those very tight pants, nobody knows) and proceeds to open Twitter, finding the thread with the girl quite easily since he liked it to have the ranch information at hand (but he stills murmurs fuck over and over during the whole process).
"Here, see? I don't even follow her back." He shows Geralt the conversation, then taps on the girl's username to access her account. A blue button offers to follow the account, and he's obviously not pressed it ever. "She likes my tweets and occasionally comments to discuss music or a funny meme. I don't even know her age or if that's her real name. That's all, I can swear on my guitar."
And that's one hell of a swear, because his guitar is his fucking life.
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He shows Geralt his daughter's profile, and the 'follow' button on it is clearly not active. Geralt hmms at it, and though his various grunts and nonverbal replies can be difficult to decipher without enough exposure, it doesn't sound as irritated as before. Maybe he can believe that this guy isn't here to creep on his only child. Maybe.
"Fine."
Was Ciri's username on this thing really 'by-the-power-of-SCREAMING'? Sure, he'd heard the stories of how she used to scream her lungs out as a child, but apparently she's embraced her sordid noisy past.
"It better stay that way." Well, he's already ruined whatever good first impression he could make here, might as well make it very clear that his daughter is so far Off Limits that she might as well be on the fucking moon.
"So. You're here to ride." Back to business and less terrifying avenues of conversation. "What style did you learn and what do you want to do?"
Both questions are necessary information for him to know how to get this kid set up. Though, he's going to see just how much this guy actually knows before he lets him loose with one of his horses. Jaskier wouldn't be the first idiot to walk in and try to lie to him about knowing his ass from a saddle.
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Because yeah, now the initial scare is wearing off and the conversation replays in his head, he understands how the misunderstanding happened. In fact, he would've reacted with suspicion too if it had been about his sister. So this first impression? Far from bad. Not the best, for sure, but not enough to scare him off either. Geralt is a good dad, already showing more care in a couple of minutes that Jaskier's own father has ever shown for him in his entire life.
So he isn't only a DILF, he's a sweet DILF. His heart (and his dick) won't survive this.
Business talk is back, and Jaskier considers it a good sign, so he comes closer again, both to hear him better and to have a better look of those amazing eyes.
"English style. Always leisure riding, I was never one for competitions or polo. Blegh."
He pulls a face at the idea of sports, obviously this is the artist of the family. No, polo has always been his brother's thing, perfect handsome Frederick with his perfect beard and his perfect manners and perfect boring girlfriend. Some times Jaskier has to wonder how he and Lizzie are related to him.
"And that's what I'm looking for now as well. To unwind. To get on a horse and relax for a few hours, have lunch while lying on the grass and maybe compose a bit if inspiration strikes."
If that's allowed in the first place, but he figures that if the guitar was a problem, Geralt would've already told him so the minute he saw it. It's not exactly a small object to go unnoticed, now is it?
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She has a mean right hook.
Jaskier mentions polo and, taking into account his whole... everything, to be honest, just everything that Geralt is seeing right in front of him, he assumes that this kid is some kind of money. Rich parents, probably, who had their kid take English riding lessons and maybe forced him to do showjumping or something. Well, if that is the case, the one good thing is that rich kids usually get good lessons.
"I don't let anyone take one of my horses by themselves until I know they can handle it," he says. "And no one goes up on the trails alone. For safety."
Buddy system, always. If something happens out on the trail, there needs to be someone else there to either help or get help, preferably someone who knows the land well. And, really, that person is generally Geralt himself-- he usually leads the group trail rides, but he doesn't often get singles. Most people also don't want to be out in the wilderness alone with Geralt.
Geralt tips his head towards the barn, indicating for Jaskier to follow him back down.
"If you've got time, I can show you around."
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It also means one-on-one outings are probably uncommon, so Jaskier is getting a rather exclusive service. He won't read much into it - obviously the guy is just doing his job. But hey, at least so far he hasn't annoyed him into not wanting to be alone with him, that equals good first impression, right? Even after the little Twitter issue.
Leisure alone time with horses and Incredibly Handsome Brickhouse. This is turning out to be an excellent Saturday.
"Trust and safety come first, understood." You can take me to the trails any time you want, he doesn't add. He tries to look serious when he nods but he's already beaming with excitement, his body as bouncy as a rubber ball. "My whole day is free, so if I'm not keeping you from anything--" He opens his arms. "Lead the way!"
Hopefully 'showing him around' doesn't include staying silence, because Jaskier doesn't go in for that. As they walk to the barn, he has all kinds of questions for the very mysterious man. "So is it just you and your daughter here? Do you breed and/or sell horses as well? Do you know how to ride in all the styles?"
Would you ride me too or I don't have the equipment you like? is the one he saves for himself.
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"Hm."
The man couldn't manage to stay silent for more than a minute, firing questions off at Geralt as though he physically couldn't contain them in his body. It's... a little overwhelming, and a little annoying. Thankfully he'd trained all of the horses and knows that they aren't skittish, even around ridiculously talkative city boys.
"Yes. Not usually. Yes," he replies, and if he uses the fewest number of syllables possible in this conversation, maybe the kid will get a hint.
Geralt opens the door to the barn and leads him inside, to where the horses are kept. A few of the more curious ones stick their heads out of their stalls, looking at Geralt and the newcomer with big, soft eyes; the others are too busy with their breakfasts to pay them any mind.
"The horses," he says. "Names are on the stall. Don't touch Roach."
He leads him to the store room where the tack is kept, all of the saddles and blankets and bridles, as well as the tools needed for caring for the horses before and after riding them, like the brushes and hoof picks. He shows him the indoor arena, where he'll teach lessons or train the horses, especially if it's too rainy to have the horses outside. And there's a room in the back that's like a break room, with a refrigerator and some chairs and such so that you could keep your lunch there and have it after a lesson or trail ride. It's not the biggest barn, but it's clean and organized and well maintained, and it serves its purpose well.
"Keep your things in the break room. Let's see if you actually know what you're doing."
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Oh, he does see the hint - Geralt wouldn't be the first person to try to use such hint against Jaskier's babbling. But will he take the hint? That's a completely different question.
(The answer is no.)
To be fair, Jaskier is looking forward to see the horses as well, even if they aren't the sole reason for his bounciness. He gasps when when a few of them stick their heads out when they enter the barn, already in love with their friendliness - those big soft eyes are so precious. 'Roach' is a funny (weird) name for a horse, but Jaskier just hums as a reply - if he can't touch it, it means it's a dangerous horse that will probably kick him, and his poetic mind is already filling in the gaps between 'roach' and 'garbage attitude'.
It's alright, his heart is already set on the curious cuties, because peeking out when new people are around matches Jaskier's personality. He'll choose from among them.
The place is bigger than it looks, and Jaskier is nothing but impressed, especially by the indoor area. Not something he would use, since the point of riding for him is to go outside and unwind, but it's a nice detail to know that exists. Nothing is out of place, nothing is broken or dirty, and Jaskier can see the girl's recommendation had been more than a way to promote her dad's business. It's genuinely great.
"You've got something amazing here, Geralt, especially for a man working alone. I can see your care in every corner." And he means every word, urge to flirt set aside for a moment.
Part of Jaskier doesn't want to leave his things in the break room - the entire point is to take a horse to the country side and eat and compose under the sun! He understands he must pass some tests first, though, safety and all, so he does do as Geralt says (if he pouts a bit while he does so, well, no biggie). He leaves his satchel on top of the table and his guitar on one of the chairs, which means now the case is displaying all its stickers. There are the obligatory music ones of course: a yellow submarine, music notes, a zeppelin, the quote "Don't stop me now". But there is not-music-related stuff as well: the quote "I have no fear only love", a cute little serpent peeking out from under a green and silver scarf, Stitch with an ukelele, and the bisexual flag.
(He wonders if Geralt would even recognize it.)
"Pegasus. That was name of the white one, right?" His eyes had fallen on it as soon as the horse had peeked out of its stall - white as the horses princes ride in the stories. His romantic heart instantly knew what his choice would be, and that's what he tells Geralt now. "I'd love to start with it. Don't worry, this is like riding a bike - your body never forgets."
Or at least, he hopes so. He hasn't go riding since he was a child, but he can't get nervous in front of Handsome And Silent. Gotta keep the bravado up, make a good impression.
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Whatever. Probably doesn't matter. He doesn't really care what affiliations this guy likes to put on his cases or laptop or whatever, he cares about whether he knows his ass from a hoof pick. Whether he can trust the guy alone with his horses for five minutes or if he's going to have to babysit him through getting a saddle on.
The city boy expresses interest in riding Pegasus, and that's not the worst choice that he could make. Pegasus is even-tempered and quite gentle, and was one of the curious horses that had poked his head out when they came in. Generally friendly. Geralt nods, approving of his choice, though even if Jaskier had chosen poorly, he still probably would've let him try-- if only to see him bite off more than he could chew.
"Get him on a lead and get him tacked up. I want to see you in the indoor arena."
And Geralt planned to watch him through the process, to see just how much he bumbled and how much he actually knew. This is the practical exam, Jask, try to take it seriously.
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Look, he is taking this seriously. But that doesn't mean he can't tease a bit as well, right?
Jaskier approaches Pegasus slowly, offering his hand ahead of him and petting his face when the horse confirms to be friendly and gentle. Smiling with excitement, Jaskier speaks to him with a soft voice. He's never had pets, the horses of the Pankratz stables not really counting as such, but he does like their company in the rare chances he gets to interact with them.
"Hello, beautiful. It's nice to meet you. Let's get you ready for a ride, mmh? I hope you can be patient with me, it's been a while."
He does remember how to do this, but as he said, he's out of practice, so he fumbles a couple of times. The order he nails: square pad, puffier half pad, saddle, tightening the girth, putting on the bridle. They slip off once or twice, but Jaskier keeps going and tries again, interrupting his singing to apologize to Pegasus when it happens. Because of course he sings while he works, not too loud not to upset the horses, The Horse Nobody Could Ride having invaded his head and not wanting to leave until he sings it whole.
Slowly but surely, Jaskier gets Pegasus ready and carefully guides him out of his stall, blue eyes turning to Geralt looking proud and nervous at the same time.
"So? Do I pass the test so far, Master Equestrian?"
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Jaskier sings songs about horses to his horse. Geralt can't decide if it's sweet or annoying.
He leads the horse out and before they go to the arena, Geralt checks over his work. The saddle's in the right position, pad and blanket are good, the bridle's on right. Geralt tugs on the girth, and it's too loose; saddle would slide off if he tried to mount. He lefts the stirrup flap and tightens it, and Pegasus huffs in protest and flicks his tail.
"Pegasus is a little shit," he says. "He puffs his stomach up when you tighten the girth. Gotta check it before you get on."
He says it with a sort of soft affection, patting the horse's neck once he finished tightening up the girth, then running his hand up to Pegasus' ears and running his thumb along the soft inside of one of them. By the way the horse's head tilts into the touch, it's a welcome one.
"The rest is passable. Come on," he says, and heads towards the arena, opening up the gate so that Jaskier could lead the horse through. He'd close it again once they were safely inside.
"Mount and walk him around the perimeter a few times. Trot when you're ready."
He wants to see how much Jaskier remembers about proper posture and posting, and if he can just in general control a horse and get it to do what he wants and go where he wants.
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What he doesn't expect is suddenly seeing this brick wall of a man going all soft and affectionate for his horse. Bollocks. How can one guy be so hot and so kind at the same time? Built like the statue of a Greek god, good with animals, and a caring dad too judging from his earlier reaction. Jaskier can already feel a crush forming - it's not surprising, really, he's falling for people all the fucking time, but this is a new record. His sister is going to destroy him when he calls her later.
"Pegasus, you fiend!" He exclaims with a gasp, a hand going to his chest. Someone likes being dramatic. "I thought we were becoming friends!"
Luckily for Pegasus, he's cute as fuck, and Jaskier doesn't really mean his indignation. What he does mean is the huff that escapes his lips when Geralt calls his work passable. Wow, strict much?
(Then again, he has no room to complain, no student of his is allowed to play too freely with his instruments either - at least not until they know what they're doing.)
He has better expectations for the next part, though. Like riding a bike, he had said, and he means it. His body remembers the motions, no different of it knowing every step to a dance (and Jaskier is a great dancer). Mounting Pegasus on his first try makes him grateful for deciding to take up yoga to keep his body flexible (his bed partners have thanked him for it as well), and after that, it's muscle memory.
There are some differences that Jaskier discovers when he starts walking him around the perimeter as Geralt instructed him, which if he has to guess, has to do with the simple fact he's grown up, because his legs feel a bit different around the horse from what he remembers. He ends up walking for longer than he planned, getting used to those new details, but once his body gets the message? The trotting appears, and only it takes two perimeters rounds before the trotting becomes cantering - which Geralt didn't mention, but Jaskier has lost himself in the riding, memories taking over and reminding him of that wonderful sense of freedom he'd get from one of the few activities that allowed him to pretend he was running away from that awful house.
So excuse him as he starts laughing - it's not at anything in particular. Just an expression of how giddy, fun and simply light his heart is feeling at the moment.
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He squeezes the horse into a trot after a few passes, and Geralt watches his form with a practiced eye; the set of his heels in the stirrup, his posture in the saddle, how he holds the reins. The rhythm of his posting. Everything about how he sits screams proper English tutoring, someone who has been taught how to ride for showjumping or dressage. He posts properly on the diagonal without Geralt needing to tell him, has the proper angle in his elbows and knees. Put him in high boots and breeches and a jacket and he wouldn't look out of place at a dressage competition or polo match, regardless of what he said earlier about never doing those.
Geralt hadn't told him to canter, but he does it anyway, knowing the cue for the horse by muscle-memory. Pegasus canters like a dream, though, one of the smoothest that Geralt's had the pleasure of training. Practically feels like flying. Jaskier sits it nicely, too, and he can't really fault him for laughing, not when he's on this horse and has the confidence to ride him well.
He lets the city boy canter for a while, watching him from the center of the arena, until he lets Pegasus wind back down to a trot.
He'll be fine, Geralt thinks. Jaskier might be a dramatic city boy, but he at least can ride a horse. Hell, with a little practice and maybe a touch of instruction, he'd be more than just capable, he'd be good; might call him pretty, even.
"You can take him to the outdoor arena, if you want," he says. "I've got frames for jumps if you want me to set a few up for you."
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He pats the horse on the neck to go along with his compliment - he's not just being poetic for the sake of chatting up Geralt, he truly means it. And this is coming from a guy that has ridden some of the most expensive horses in England - goes to show that what really matters are your skills and not your breeding. (A lesson Jaskier obviously keeps close to his heart.)
When they get outside, Jaskier once again starts with a walk to get used to his surroundings, and this time he falls into a trot then a canter much quicker, feeling more confident. Part of him wants to jump over the fence and ride up the trail, away from everything: from the loneliness, the need to finish unpacking, missing his sister, his friends, having blue balls, and also that horrible American tea. The wind on his face feels fantastic, at least, and it does help him relax and forget. He would close his eyes if he wasn't incredibly sure that Geralt would scold him for it.
Speaking of Geralt... has he been waiting by the fence all this freaking time? Watching him? Jaskier can't help the feeling of something turning in his stomach, which is quite silly really - he's a performer and an attention whore. Even if Geralt is only doing this because of his job, Jaskier should be loving having those eyes on him. He kinda does, but at the same time, something bothers him...
Ah. Riding used to be his alone time, away from the family. Not even Lizzie would come along when he used to run away from the house. What bothers him is a (very dishy) stranger getting to see him like this... he almost feels naked. Does he look any different, he wonders, but he can't ask - Geralt doesn't know him well enough to be able to tell the difference.
Hopefully that changes soon in the future.
Pegasus is brought back to a trot by a very determined Jaskier that won't let this chance escape his calloused fingers. One of the wonderful things about having a powerful voice is that he can naturally chitchat while riding a horse and still make himself heard above Pegasus' clippity-clop.
"You must be the most patient bloke I've ever met, Geralt, and I've hanged out with students that made some extra money by posing for art majors. Don't you get bored by just standing there?" After a pause, he can't stop himself from being a flirty ass anymore. "I don't know if my ego can take all this lovely attention."
So much for being smooth and careful...
(Who was he trying to fool, really.)
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There's a look on the city boy's face that's-- blissful, maybe, or exhilarated. There's something about riding that he clearly loves, and that's... something worth encouraging. Even if he's a ridiculous city boy with silly fashion and an instrument case covered in ridiculous stickers, Geralt wants to have people here who have passion and drive, not somebody who's being forced into lessons because their parents want them to. No forced polo stars or unwilling showjumpers.
And if all Jaskier ultimately wants to do is go up on trails when the weather's nice and hang out somewhere scenic and do whatever it is that musicians do, than that's fine, so long as he does it safely.
Pegasus backs down to a trot, snorting and tossing his head-- willing to run more if Jaskier will let him-- and the musician tosses out a question as he posts past Geralt's spot on the rails. There's a flippant edge to his tone that Geralt would think is flirtatious if Jaskier had been a woman.
"Have to make sure you don't get thrown and break your neck," he says on Jaskier's next pass. "Break my daughter's heart if you end up dead and can't blog your videos."
That's absolutely not the correct term for what he does, but Geralt also doesn't care. Twitter, Instagram, Youtube, it's all blogging, right?
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Look at that, Hotstuff has a sense of humor! Oh, how delightful, another point goes to that quickly developing crush. Jaskier throws his head back and laughs, taking a moment to try to get a read of the guy - has he understood the flirting? Is he joking along like bros would do, totally unaware? While Jaskier hates stereotypes, he is also very aware of what his flamboyant manners come off as...
Then again, the bloke just said blog. Which is adorable, but also a big sign of not being exactly up with the times. Oh boy, this one is going to be difficult to navigate.
"What will break your daughter's heart is hearing you talk about the internet like that. I was going to ask you if you would take some pictures of me with Pegasus here, who by the way is an absolute darling, but now I'm worried my phone may be too much technology for you." His tone is teasing as he slow downs in front of Geralt on his next pass. "How old are you anyway? You have the body of a Greek god statue, not a ranch dad."
Probably too much, but with a guy that seems to be living in the past, better be direct, he supposes.
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This guy is teasing him. No one does that except for his foster brothers, and they only do it because they're just as big as he is and know that his bark is far worse than his bite. If Jaskier were a woman, some pretty little thing that he could pick up one-handed--
Well, he isn't. Jaskier's a man, and Geralt's not interested in big blue eyes and long legs on men.
"Don't even have a cell phone," he says, which isn't true at all but he's fucking with this guy. He does have a cell phone, but it's one of those flip phones with only the most basic functions. It makes calls and sends text messages, what else does he need? "Could get my Polaroid if you want a photo."
That's not actually a lie-- he does have an old Polaroid in his closet and some instant film packets in his fridge. And don't these hipster types love their vintage shit?
He comments on Geralt's indeterminable age and the fact that he's built like a brick shithouse, though he's much more complimentary than most people are. A Greek statue, he hasn't gotten that one before. (He's partly right-- there are many ways that Geralt is built like a Greek statue, and one very important way that he isn't. But Jaskier wouldn't be interested in that anyway.)
"Hm." Since Jaskier asked the million dollar question, though, he gets to deal with the consequences. "Guess."
Ball's in your court, musician, try not to offend the hot ranch dad.
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A dad is said with amusement, no negative connotation at all. It's cute, really. He's that cozy kind of dad stuck in his old ways but not insulting of the new ones, as far as Jaskier can tell. His daughter is allowed to have a smart phone and social media, and there haven't been any passive-aggressive jabs thrown at Jaskier's own phone or online work, only playful teasing. It's the kind of vintage he can get behind - a respectful one.
Geralt throws the question back at him, and Jaskier decides to stop Pegasus in front of him for a better look. He makes sure to make a humming noise to show he's taking a moment to think carefully and that's why he's checking the adonis over, not for other reasons. (Except there totally are other reasons, like the way the sunlight falls on those golden eyes and those muscles flex against the fence. Damn.)
"Bollocks, it's harder than it looks. If you're making me guess it's because you're either much younger or much older than you look, and you want me to screw up. If I end up insulting you, I'm putting all the blame on you." He tilts his head, the tip of his tongue peeking out as he considers all his options. It can't be younger, no after everything they just discussed. "Forty-two, perhaps?"
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Jaskier walks the horse over and stands there for a few moments, looking down at Geralt with an appraising gaze. Geralt crosses his arms and leans against the rail, and if that particular stance just so happens to emphasize how large his biceps are and how his chest fills out his shirt, well. That's just coincidence. He only does that sort of thing on purpose around women that he wants to impress.
"Too high," he says. Forty-two isn't too far off, but he hasn't quite hit the wrong side of forty yet. He's still got a few years of his thirties left. "Try again."
It's the prematurely gray hair, that throws people off every time. He's gotten guesses anywhere between thirty and fifty, mostly from people not believing that a man can be under forty and completely gray.
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He should probably not think that far before even learning what equipment Geralt requires for said bending, but Jaskier knows better than trying to stop his brain. It already knows what images will be brought in the shower later.
"But you are older than me, I can tell that much." He replies as he takes the excuse to appraise Geralt once again. Flexing because he bats for Jaskier's team, or simply a gym rat that likes to show off? What gym would that be so he can, err, visit? "Thirty five?"
That would make it only seven years between them - not bad at all. Although he supposed his sister and friends would have less to say about the age and more about the whole single father deal.
(Thinking too much ahead again. Damn, this crush isn't pulling any punches.)
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Not that he would ever expect to see this guy in a gym, nevertheless actually exercising. Maybe for an Insta-whatever picture wearing some sponsored fashionable workout clothes.
"I am, unless your baby face is really lying to me."
Not that it isn't a nice face, he supposes, with his very blue eyes and animated features and soft mouth. He's probably pretty, for a man, it's just that he looks young. And, hell, he's probably a real ladykiller, those musician types usually are. Probably just gives them a soft look with those blue eyes and says something sweet and sensitive and has all the pretty girls eating out of his hand.
"Close. Split the difference," he says. "Thirty-eight."
Ten years between them, though Geralt doesn't know that quite yet. Not that it matters, anyway, he's just letting the guy ride his horses, it's not like he's taking him out. Even if he was a woman, and interested, that would be too much of an age gap, right? He's almost forty and has a kid, he's not the kind of person that twenty-something musicians with aspirations of fame and glory would want to hang around.
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(His sister is going to hate this.)
"Thirty-eight. Bloody hell - my compliments to your working-out routine, good sir." He grins then, hands and legs moving to get Pegasus into a walk again. "This baby face can play this game as well. Let's see how old you think I am. I'll even give you time to figure it out, Master Equestrian."
And with a wink, he's off, asking Pegasus to canter again as he starts singing...
The fact that song happens to be Stacy's Mom is just a coincidence.
Clearly.
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Is it unprofessional to be having this kind of conversation with a customer? Probably, but there's nothing to it. They're just talking. Hell, Ciri would be proud of him for holding a whole conversation with a new person without being so weird and gruff that it drives them off. It's progress or whatever. Set reasonable and attainable goals, his therapist would say.
He recognizes the song that Jaskier sings when he canters by, that hit from the early 2000's that came out just a few years before he went to prison. So the kid likes older women? Nothing wrong with that, Geralt supposes, but Jaskier better not be hoping that he'll introduce him to some. If he wants to find some hot forty-something sugar mama, he can do his own legwork.
"Twenty-five," he says the next time Jaskier slows down. A safe guess. "And I probably don't work out as much as you think."
Sure, he hits his home gym almost every day, but he gets plenty of exercise from his daily work and chores. Hauling bales of hay and mucking stalls and all that is hard work, even when he does have some help come around.
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"Ha! You may want to add three years to that. Close enough, though, so not bad." The rest of that comment, however, makes him snort and roll his eyes. "Oh, please. You aren't just fit, you are sculpted. There's a sign above your head that screams 'gym rat'."
It's not a complaint - far from it. He said he sends his regards to Geralt's work-out routine for a reason, why can't the guy take a compliment? Is he actually this humble or is he trying to fuck with him? He wouldn't mind the latter if it is followed by a different kind of fucking.
Since he's slowed Pegasus down again, Jaskier takes the chance to take out his phone and hand it to Geralt, camera app already open. "Would you do me the honors? I did mean my promise to tip." He makes Pegasus step back then so they can both fully fit in the picture, and Jaskier offers his brightest, most charming smile.
If Geralt hits home after taking the photo, accident or not, he'll find the screen filled with app icons and picture as wallpaper: a selfie taken from above of Jaskier pressing his cheek against a cute girl's, long blonde hair up in a messy bun and eyes as blue as his.
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