"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.
Twenty-eight. Ten years is a pretty big age gap. Not that it's important, Geralt's just the guy with the horses.
He's also pretty sure that 'gym rat' isn't a compliment, because generally rats are not complimentary things to be compared to? But he lets it slide, because this is a customer and Geralt has learned to pick his battles. Things that aren't worth the argument-- the precise definition of a gym rat.
The musician slows Pegasus close enough to the rail to lean over and hand something to Geralt, which he takes because he has been trained to accept anything that's handed to him. A phone-- one of those fancy smartphone things, like the one that Yen had gotten for Ciri, in the sparkly case that he'd seen earlier. The camera app is helpfully open for him, which is good because no one wants to see a ranch dad bumblefuck his way through the iPhone home page, looking for the camera.
Jaskier backs Pegasus up a bit, and his repositioning also has the added benefit of putting him into better lighting. The mid-morning sun is streaming just right through the trees that shade the arena, bathing the musician's boyish features in a soft golden glow. There are motes suspended in the sunbeams-- probably pollen, it's getting to be that time of year, but it lends a certain ethereal effect to the picture.
Geralt snaps a few photos. These iPhones have small screens and small buttons, though, and he accidentally closes out the app right after the pictures are taken. Jaskier's phone is full of icons from all the programs that he downloaded, and the picture he set as his wallpaper is himself with some lovely girl, cheek to cheek. A girlfriend, probably. They make for a nice pair, it's probably a good match. He seems high energy-- and high maintenance-- so she's probably much the same.
Why is he thinking about this, anyway? It doesn't matter who she is or what kind of person. That's not his business.
"Here." He hands the phone over once Jaskier comes back into arm's reach. "Looks fine."
Watching a ranch dad bumblefuck his way through a smart phone could actually be quite adorable, but with all the important files and numbers he has in that phone and the huge amount of app icons making it all messier, Jaskier isn't going to risk it. Maybe he should casually mention Spotify later just to see the reaction it gets, considering the Polaroid.
"Thank you." Jaskier replies as he comes closer again and takes back his phone, not wasting a second before checking the pictures. The ethereal effect takes him by surprise, his smile growing from ear to ear. "Geralt, these are great. Everyone is going to love you, my boy." He pats the horse on his neck before turning to his master again. "Let me guess, the ranch doesn't have social media I can tag to promote it when I upload these, right?"
If it had, the daughter would've linked him to them, he imagines. And he didn't have much luck in google either. It doesn't hurt to ask anyway, mainly because he wants to tease a little bit more. Hot Silence has proved to be mysterious but kind, having a dry but amusing sense of humor. Jaskier wants more - not only because that deep voice is sexy as hell, but because his curiosity has definitely been piqued. Even if the man turns out to be straight as an arrow, Jaskier thinks he has potential to be good company, maybe sharing a beer after a ride or something.
Speaking of rides... he tilts his head at Geralt after putting his phone away. He can upload the pictures properly later, his attention is needed in the here and now.
"Well then, Master Equestrian, what are the requirements for me to go up the trail with my new ivory friend?"
Jaskier is pleased with the photos, and that's great because Geralt doesn't want to stand around here taking pictures for this overgrown peacock of a man for the next hour. While he's willing to help out a customer and all that, he has his limits, and playing cameraman for a wannabe-Twitter influencer is that hard line.
"Nope," he replies, because he sure as hell wouldn't know how to set up a social media page for his ranch, or what the hell he should put on it. That would require him to know how social media works and how to promote his business and all that shit, he's just an ex-con trying to raise a teenage daughter and deal with his very powerful ex, he's got a lot on his plate.
Jaskier puts his phone away and asks about trail rides; Geralt considers this, and his schedule for the day.
"You seem like you won't get yourself thrown," he concedes. "Should be fine to go up if you aren't alone."
He checks his watch; he has things that need to get done today, both chores and things that he actually gets paid for. A lesson this afternoon. It would be good to get a trail ride in, though, he doesn't have a big group coming until Saturday...
Ah, he even says nope, lips popping with the sound of the p. It's adorable coming from an grown man, and Jaskier finds it incredible distracting (then again, what doesn't he find incredibly distracting about this adonis?).
"You should ask your daughter to set you up with an Instagram account. All you'd have to do is upload pictures or videos of your horses, their cuteness will do the rest."
Other social networks aren't mentioned, because he can see how a guy of few words like Geralt wouldn't get into actual promotion. But that affection he showed earlier for Pegasus? The care he sees in every corner of the ranch? Yeah, Jaskier doubts this guy would mind taking photos of his horses every day.
"All day. I'm taking a break to unwind after the move - I spent all week opening boxes and putting things in cabinets and shelves." But as much as Jaskier loves the sound of you aren't going alone, he knows how to be considerate and not think with his dick for a change (which is a miracle, a day that will be remembered in history). He waves a hand at Geralt in a gesture that says don't worry. "But I understand if it's something that needs scheduling, that's why I asked about requirements in the first place. This isn't my one and only visit, you can expect me to return - you have something great here, Geralt."
He pets Pegasus again to make his point. The horses are friendly and the company is nice, of course he's coming back soon!
The possibility of just posting a bunch of horse pictures and getting a lot more business because of it is tempting. It would be easy, because Geralt has plenty of horses and he loves all of them with the entirety of his weird, ex-con heart. He'd have to have a phone that could handle things like Instagram, though, and he sure has hell doesn't have that.
So Jaskier's a recent move, recent enough that he's still in the process of putting everything away. That explains, at least, why he's hanging around here by himself instead of out with friends-- he doesn't have any in the area. But a young guy like him will probably make friends quickly and have better things to do with his time than ride horses on his days off.
"I usually take groups," he says. "But I'll have time in the evening. Around five. Could take you up and have you back before sundown."
Nothing too strenuous, but there were some easier trails that wouldn't be bad for a late afternoon ride. Had some nice sights, wouldn't be too taxing on the horses, it'd give Jaskier what he wants out of a trail ride. He really does need to get Roach out for some exercise, too. And Ciri would have the house to herself for a little longer tonight, she always liked that. Teenagers and their sudden need for personal space.
"It's fine if you don't want to stay that long. You can schedule something another time."
Late evening in the trails - beautiful sights, sunset behind them, a relaxing ride with a friendly horse and his guitar. It sounds perfect, and Jaskier would say yes based on that alone, but the fact Geralt would be coming too is the cherry on top. Nice on the eyes and, so far, pleasant company as well. It's almost like a date. Of course the guy only wants to make some extra bucks, but Jaskier thinks it's a good sign that he's willing to take him alone instead of waiting to schedule a group. If not for a date, at least for friendship.
"I wouldn't mind at all. I've brought lunch and my notebook, I have music in my phone. It's the unwinding I came for! It'll do me some good to laze around for a couple of hours, try to get some writing done, maybe record something out here. Ah, if that's allowed."
It's not like he'll suddenly start playing ACDC, any melody played would be soft and far from the stables, but better be sure not to fuck up with the animals. For the sake of the business, of Mr Hotstuff's, and also simply because it'd be wrong and Jaskier would feel like shit. Poor horses deserve better.
Staying so long, however, may mean the daughter may return. And who knows what her reaction may be to seeing him here. Would Geralt be okay with that? Jaskier doesn't mind meeting the fans, adoring every bit of attention, but he hasn't forgotten the misunderstanding from earlier.
"But is it okay with you?" Not a question he'd usually ask - imposing himself into people's lives is his specialty. But an exception shall be made when a young girl may get caught in the middle of it.
It's like a date that Jaskier will have to pay for in the end, which is absolutely nothing like what a date should be.
So long as the musician stays out of the way and doesn't interrupt the things that Geralt needs to do, he doesn't see any particular reason to kick him from the property. He doesn't make other patrons leave immediately after their lessons; they're free to hang around with the same stipulations. Why not Jaskier?
"Long as you don't bother the horses, I don't care."
A little guitar-playing and some singing wouldn't bother the horses so long as he isn't doing it right next to them. But there are plenty of places for a lone musician to hole up-- paddocks full of meadowgrass to sit in, the hayloft, other little nooks and corners. He's pale, anyway, he could probably use a little sun exposure and fresh air.
And as far as his daughter is concerned... well, this city boy wouldn't be the first customer who's been around when she got home, she just usually stays up in the house, except perhaps to come down and say hello to Geralt. She'll be back late tonight, anyway, because she's got her martial arts practice and Eskel is going to drop her off afterwards.
Geralt pushes himself away from the fence. He has other things to do than stand around and watch Jaskier canter around on Pegasus. If he isn't going to get himself killed, than he can get back to business and just stop by every once in a while to make sure that he's all right.
"Got things to do. Don't do anything stupid."
And if, throughout the course of the day, he occasionally stops at the doors of the barn to look out at the outside arena while Jaskier's riding, well, it's just to make sure he's still all right. Safety, and all that.
"Yesssir." He does the two fingers on his forehead again, not that it matters much.
Cantering around on Pegasus is exactly what he does, enjoying the sun on his skin and the wind on his hair. He hums or sings during the ride, letting his emotions express themselves through poetry. Singing by instinct is one of his favorite ways to turn off his brain, he lets his unconscious choose the songs and his chest always feels lighter after it.
(Another of his favorite ways is sex.)
"Haven't we met? Some kind of beautiful stranger, you could be good for me. I've had the taste for danger... ♪"
He takes a break for lunch, deciding to stay in one of the paddocks since it's such a nice day. After picking his stuff from the break room, he takes the chance to take some more pictures of the place and record a very short video for Instagram about him having a wonderful day. He uploads it together with the pics while sitting with his back against a fence, letting Pegasus grass around while he eats some sandwiches from a 7/11 and strums his guitar.
When he notices Geralt checking on him, he grins at him and waves his phone.
"I told you you need social media, mate. Everyone is in love with Pegasus - they are calling him Prince Charming."
When his afternoon lesson is over and Geralt comes out to check on Jaskier, he's sitting against a fence post in the paddock, letting Pegasus graze. The day's been quite mild, so there's little problem with having the horse out in the pasture, especially with his tack taken off. Geralt walks over, just to see what the fuss is about.
Jaskier gives him some spiel about getting social media because everyone-- or, at least, however many people actually follow this guy-- likes his horse. And, sure, Pegasus is a hell of a horse, Geralt takes good care of him. He's only like that because of all the work he put into him after the poor thing was taken from an abandonment situation. If they'd seen the pictures of Pegasus when Geralt had first gotten him, they wouldn't be fawning over him so much.
"Hm," he says, which tells Jaskier exactly nothing about what he's thinking.
Geralt leans against the railing next to where Jaskier is sitting, watching Pegasus wander his way across the paddock, content to graze on clover.
"Got him a little over a year ago. Guy about an hour away had moved and just left three of his horses behind in a pasture, no food or water. One of 'em was dead by the time animal welfare got there, the other didn't make it past a few days. They gave Pegasus to me."
And, clearly, Pegasus made it. Not that it hadn't taken a lot of effort, it had been weeks and weeks of care and work and wondering if all of that time was going to be for nothing, but in the end? It's worth it. It's always worth it.
"If you're going to post about him everywhere, you should at least post the real story."
Exactly nothing sounds about right - a grunt isn't an answer, not a real one anyway. Jaskier wonders for a second if that's all he's getting, just Mr Adonis humoring him not to be rude to a customer. But then the guy is leaning against the railing next to him, which means Jaskier gets a lovely view from below of muscles flexing, and also... a real answer.
One bigger than he expected.
"...bollocks."
Jaskier's eyes are as wide as they can be, and they can't stop glancing from Geralt to Pegasus then back to Geralt again. He's left speechless for a moment, hand going to his chest, his heart clogging his throat. What Geralt describes... well, it's torture, plain and simple. The image of those two poor horses dying such slow deaths-- fuck, he won't be able to drop that mental image any time soon.
"So he's a rescue horse." The sadness in his voice is quite obvious. "I didn't think... never considered... people usually talk about rescue dogs or rescue cats, but horses..." Spoken like a true spoiled brat, he knows. Only finely bred stallions for the Pankratz kids. And then it hits him. "Bloody hell, Geralt. Are they all rescue horses? When I said you have something amazing here I didn't use enough words."
Words - he's good enough with those, so he does exactly what Geralt asked him to. Jaskier takes another picture of Pegasus and opens his Instagram again, calloused fingers typing at the speed of light, tugging heartstrings by adding poetics to the horse's origins.
"The real story is what both you and he deserve, and that's what the internet will get." He's about to press post but another idea comes to him, and he looks up at Geralt with raised eyebrows. "Is there anything else I can add to help promote this? A donation box perhaps?"
Not a whole lot of people consider horses as rescue animals, so Jaskier's not exactly different in his thinking from the rest of the masses. But that's because as a spoiled rich brat, he'd only ever ridden champion-bloodline stallions that had been expertly trained, the kind of animals that people paid thousand upon thousands of dollars for. Everyone else just couldn't afford horses, didn't always think of them as companion animals.
Jaskier connects the dots after a moment or two. Smarter than he looks, this one.
"Yeah. They are."
That was the point, that was why he didn't sell or breed-- they're all rescues. And this is where they get their second chances, where they can live the sorts of lives that they should've had from the start. And what a match it is-- a bunch of scarred up, abused, and neglected horses, getting a better life under the care of an ex-con who didn't get his own life together until after thirty.
Jaskier's not going to put that part in his little Instagram caption, though; would probably ruin the aesthetic or whatever. He doesn't know and, well... he doesn't really need to know, does he? He seems like a decent kid, the kind that wouldn't get mixed up with ex-cons, and it's not like Geralt plans to get involved with him on any level but the professionally friendly. And it's all a matter of public record, anyway, if he wanted to look Geralt up and find out, he always could.
Geralt shrugs in response to the question, dismissively. "Never got one set up. Don't have a website either."
Website management wasn't one of the things that they taught him in prison. He'd have to hire someone to build it and take care of it, and while he can make ends meet comfortably enough with the ranch, he doesn't have a lot left over. And what he does usually just goes right back into the ranch, for repairs or vet bills or calling in the farrier because one of the horses threw a shoe.
They are. Ah. Jaskier suddenly has the urge to go back to the stables and pet them all, poor things. Well, except for Roach apparently, although now Jaskier has a completely different theory on her. If she has attitude it may be because of a previous abusive owner, and if so, she's in her right to mistrust the hell out of strangers. Jaskier wonders if he could earn the right to touch her some day. Everyone deserves kindness, after all.
"So this is a sanctuary."
A temple of second chances, taken care of by the only angel with mighty muscles in existence (he would know, he used to be altar boy). The way Geralt had said the real story tells Jaskier how important this is to him as well. He feels like he's learned something about the man - he isn't sure what, exactly, but he cherishes this information all the same.
(Yep, that's a crush already forming, oh dear.)
"I don't have a website either." He comments with a shrug as he adds a bit about 'animal sanctuaries' to his post before finally sending it. "They're a pain to keep up with, and my social media already covers it all. I suppose you could count my youtube channel as my website, if you will. But just an Instagram account would help you immensely - let the picture of the horses do the talking. Maybe some of the trails as well, I bet it's a popular spot for dates."
No donation box, mmh. Jaskier makes a mental note to make his tip generous when the day is over. For now, he puts his phone away to pick up his guitar instead, retrieving the buttercup pick from under the strings on the neck.
"If I can't toss a donation your way, then allow me to toss you a song. What's your favorite, Geralt?"
If Geralt had any idea about the ridiculous things Jaskier is thinking about him-- a muscled angel, that's a load of rot, he's a grumpy hermit who talks in mostly monosyllables and grunts-- he would have quickly shut them down, set the record straight. Don't glamorize him, don't romanticize him. He's not some gallant hero.
But the idea of getting some kind of social media account... well, it's probably not a bad one. He could use more customers to get a little more cash flow into the place, since there are some repairs and new equipment that he'd like to get. It would be nice to be able to hire some extra help so that he could spend more time with Ciri. If he really got a good, steady increase, maybe he could even think about expanding the barn and taking more horses...
"Hm." Another hum, but this one with a more considering tone. He'd think about it. Maybe he could ask Ciri about how to set up one of those Instagrams.
The musician gets his guitar and pulls out a clear pick that has some kind of yellow flower encapsulated inside it and asks for a request. Geralt considers it for a moment; he does, actually, like plenty of music, so he could name something that could be played on one guitar. But--
Is it his imagination or is that hum a thoughtful one? These grunts of his have nuance to them, Jaskier is discovering, another part of a very handsome mystery to unravel. Hopefully he'll get more clues soon. And hey, that means he's considering the idea of social media for the ranch, right? It's good to be heard! Jaskier will make sure to be his first follower - well, not counting his daughter.
His gentle smile changes to a face of surprise and indignation, however, when Geralt makes his request - if it can be called that.
"Blessed silence! The nerve! The scandal!" He exclaims as he puts a hand on his chest, trying to guess if the man is serious or not and deciding it doesn't matter, because even if it's a joke, he's going to be a drama queen anyway. "I'll have you know, good sir, I don't go in for that--"
He suddenly interrupts himself when he remembers something, and his lips go from gaping fish to mischievous grin. Guitar position is fixed on his lap, hands test the strings, voice is cleared twice, and then Jaskier starts playing a very particular song.
"♪ Enjoy the silence you've invited, without a sound and be excited. Blessed silence, blessed silence. ♪"
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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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He's also pretty sure that 'gym rat' isn't a compliment, because generally rats are not complimentary things to be compared to? But he lets it slide, because this is a customer and Geralt has learned to pick his battles. Things that aren't worth the argument-- the precise definition of a gym rat.
The musician slows Pegasus close enough to the rail to lean over and hand something to Geralt, which he takes because he has been trained to accept anything that's handed to him. A phone-- one of those fancy smartphone things, like the one that Yen had gotten for Ciri, in the sparkly case that he'd seen earlier. The camera app is helpfully open for him, which is good because no one wants to see a ranch dad bumblefuck his way through the iPhone home page, looking for the camera.
Jaskier backs Pegasus up a bit, and his repositioning also has the added benefit of putting him into better lighting. The mid-morning sun is streaming just right through the trees that shade the arena, bathing the musician's boyish features in a soft golden glow. There are motes suspended in the sunbeams-- probably pollen, it's getting to be that time of year, but it lends a certain ethereal effect to the picture.
Geralt snaps a few photos. These iPhones have small screens and small buttons, though, and he accidentally closes out the app right after the pictures are taken. Jaskier's phone is full of icons from all the programs that he downloaded, and the picture he set as his wallpaper is himself with some lovely girl, cheek to cheek. A girlfriend, probably. They make for a nice pair, it's probably a good match. He seems high energy-- and high maintenance-- so she's probably much the same.
Why is he thinking about this, anyway? It doesn't matter who she is or what kind of person. That's not his business.
"Here." He hands the phone over once Jaskier comes back into arm's reach. "Looks fine."
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"Thank you." Jaskier replies as he comes closer again and takes back his phone, not wasting a second before checking the pictures. The ethereal effect takes him by surprise, his smile growing from ear to ear. "Geralt, these are great. Everyone is going to love you, my boy." He pats the horse on his neck before turning to his master again. "Let me guess, the ranch doesn't have social media I can tag to promote it when I upload these, right?"
If it had, the daughter would've linked him to them, he imagines. And he didn't have much luck in google either. It doesn't hurt to ask anyway, mainly because he wants to tease a little bit more. Hot Silence has proved to be mysterious but kind, having a dry but amusing sense of humor. Jaskier wants more - not only because that deep voice is sexy as hell, but because his curiosity has definitely been piqued. Even if the man turns out to be straight as an arrow, Jaskier thinks he has potential to be good company, maybe sharing a beer after a ride or something.
Speaking of rides... he tilts his head at Geralt after putting his phone away. He can upload the pictures properly later, his attention is needed in the here and now.
"Well then, Master Equestrian, what are the requirements for me to go up the trail with my new ivory friend?"
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"Nope," he replies, because he sure as hell wouldn't know how to set up a social media page for his ranch, or what the hell he should put on it. That would require him to know how social media works and how to promote his business and all that shit, he's just an ex-con trying to raise a teenage daughter and deal with his very powerful ex, he's got a lot on his plate.
Jaskier puts his phone away and asks about trail rides; Geralt considers this, and his schedule for the day.
"You seem like you won't get yourself thrown," he concedes. "Should be fine to go up if you aren't alone."
He checks his watch; he has things that need to get done today, both chores and things that he actually gets paid for. A lesson this afternoon. It would be good to get a trail ride in, though, he doesn't have a big group coming until Saturday...
"How much time do you have?"
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"You should ask your daughter to set you up with an Instagram account. All you'd have to do is upload pictures or videos of your horses, their cuteness will do the rest."
Other social networks aren't mentioned, because he can see how a guy of few words like Geralt wouldn't get into actual promotion. But that affection he showed earlier for Pegasus? The care he sees in every corner of the ranch? Yeah, Jaskier doubts this guy would mind taking photos of his horses every day.
"All day. I'm taking a break to unwind after the move - I spent all week opening boxes and putting things in cabinets and shelves." But as much as Jaskier loves the sound of you aren't going alone, he knows how to be considerate and not think with his dick for a change (which is a miracle, a day that will be remembered in history). He waves a hand at Geralt in a gesture that says don't worry. "But I understand if it's something that needs scheduling, that's why I asked about requirements in the first place. This isn't my one and only visit, you can expect me to return - you have something great here, Geralt."
He pets Pegasus again to make his point. The horses are friendly and the company is nice, of course he's coming back soon!
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The possibility of just posting a bunch of horse pictures and getting a lot more business because of it is tempting. It would be easy, because Geralt has plenty of horses and he loves all of them with the entirety of his weird, ex-con heart. He'd have to have a phone that could handle things like Instagram, though, and he sure has hell doesn't have that.
So Jaskier's a recent move, recent enough that he's still in the process of putting everything away. That explains, at least, why he's hanging around here by himself instead of out with friends-- he doesn't have any in the area. But a young guy like him will probably make friends quickly and have better things to do with his time than ride horses on his days off.
"I usually take groups," he says. "But I'll have time in the evening. Around five. Could take you up and have you back before sundown."
Nothing too strenuous, but there were some easier trails that wouldn't be bad for a late afternoon ride. Had some nice sights, wouldn't be too taxing on the horses, it'd give Jaskier what he wants out of a trail ride. He really does need to get Roach out for some exercise, too. And Ciri would have the house to herself for a little longer tonight, she always liked that. Teenagers and their sudden need for personal space.
"It's fine if you don't want to stay that long. You can schedule something another time."
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"I wouldn't mind at all. I've brought lunch and my notebook, I have music in my phone. It's the unwinding I came for! It'll do me some good to laze around for a couple of hours, try to get some writing done, maybe record something out here. Ah, if that's allowed."
It's not like he'll suddenly start playing ACDC, any melody played would be soft and far from the stables, but better be sure not to fuck up with the animals. For the sake of the business, of Mr Hotstuff's, and also simply because it'd be wrong and Jaskier would feel like shit. Poor horses deserve better.
Staying so long, however, may mean the daughter may return. And who knows what her reaction may be to seeing him here. Would Geralt be okay with that? Jaskier doesn't mind meeting the fans, adoring every bit of attention, but he hasn't forgotten the misunderstanding from earlier.
"But is it okay with you?" Not a question he'd usually ask - imposing himself into people's lives is his specialty. But an exception shall be made when a young girl may get caught in the middle of it.
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So long as the musician stays out of the way and doesn't interrupt the things that Geralt needs to do, he doesn't see any particular reason to kick him from the property. He doesn't make other patrons leave immediately after their lessons; they're free to hang around with the same stipulations. Why not Jaskier?
"Long as you don't bother the horses, I don't care."
A little guitar-playing and some singing wouldn't bother the horses so long as he isn't doing it right next to them. But there are plenty of places for a lone musician to hole up-- paddocks full of meadowgrass to sit in, the hayloft, other little nooks and corners. He's pale, anyway, he could probably use a little sun exposure and fresh air.
And as far as his daughter is concerned... well, this city boy wouldn't be the first customer who's been around when she got home, she just usually stays up in the house, except perhaps to come down and say hello to Geralt. She'll be back late tonight, anyway, because she's got her martial arts practice and Eskel is going to drop her off afterwards.
Geralt pushes himself away from the fence. He has other things to do than stand around and watch Jaskier canter around on Pegasus. If he isn't going to get himself killed, than he can get back to business and just stop by every once in a while to make sure that he's all right.
"Got things to do. Don't do anything stupid."
And if, throughout the course of the day, he occasionally stops at the doors of the barn to look out at the outside arena while Jaskier's riding, well, it's just to make sure he's still all right. Safety, and all that.
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Cantering around on Pegasus is exactly what he does, enjoying the sun on his skin and the wind on his hair. He hums or sings during the ride, letting his emotions express themselves through poetry. Singing by instinct is one of his favorite ways to turn off his brain, he lets his unconscious choose the songs and his chest always feels lighter after it.
(Another of his favorite ways is sex.)
"Haven't we met? Some kind of beautiful stranger, you could be good for me. I've had the taste for danger... ♪"
He takes a break for lunch, deciding to stay in one of the paddocks since it's such a nice day. After picking his stuff from the break room, he takes the chance to take some more pictures of the place and record a very short video for Instagram about him having a wonderful day. He uploads it together with the pics while sitting with his back against a fence, letting Pegasus grass around while he eats some sandwiches from a 7/11 and strums his guitar.
When he notices Geralt checking on him, he grins at him and waves his phone.
"I told you you need social media, mate. Everyone is in love with Pegasus - they are calling him Prince Charming."
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Jaskier gives him some spiel about getting social media because everyone-- or, at least, however many people actually follow this guy-- likes his horse. And, sure, Pegasus is a hell of a horse, Geralt takes good care of him. He's only like that because of all the work he put into him after the poor thing was taken from an abandonment situation. If they'd seen the pictures of Pegasus when Geralt had first gotten him, they wouldn't be fawning over him so much.
"Hm," he says, which tells Jaskier exactly nothing about what he's thinking.
Geralt leans against the railing next to where Jaskier is sitting, watching Pegasus wander his way across the paddock, content to graze on clover.
"Got him a little over a year ago. Guy about an hour away had moved and just left three of his horses behind in a pasture, no food or water. One of 'em was dead by the time animal welfare got there, the other didn't make it past a few days. They gave Pegasus to me."
And, clearly, Pegasus made it. Not that it hadn't taken a lot of effort, it had been weeks and weeks of care and work and wondering if all of that time was going to be for nothing, but in the end? It's worth it. It's always worth it.
"If you're going to post about him everywhere, you should at least post the real story."
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One bigger than he expected.
"...bollocks."
Jaskier's eyes are as wide as they can be, and they can't stop glancing from Geralt to Pegasus then back to Geralt again. He's left speechless for a moment, hand going to his chest, his heart clogging his throat. What Geralt describes... well, it's torture, plain and simple. The image of those two poor horses dying such slow deaths-- fuck, he won't be able to drop that mental image any time soon.
"So he's a rescue horse." The sadness in his voice is quite obvious. "I didn't think... never considered... people usually talk about rescue dogs or rescue cats, but horses..." Spoken like a true spoiled brat, he knows. Only finely bred stallions for the Pankratz kids. And then it hits him. "Bloody hell, Geralt. Are they all rescue horses? When I said you have something amazing here I didn't use enough words."
Words - he's good enough with those, so he does exactly what Geralt asked him to. Jaskier takes another picture of Pegasus and opens his Instagram again, calloused fingers typing at the speed of light, tugging heartstrings by adding poetics to the horse's origins.
"The real story is what both you and he deserve, and that's what the internet will get." He's about to press post but another idea comes to him, and he looks up at Geralt with raised eyebrows. "Is there anything else I can add to help promote this? A donation box perhaps?"
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Jaskier connects the dots after a moment or two. Smarter than he looks, this one.
"Yeah. They are."
That was the point, that was why he didn't sell or breed-- they're all rescues. And this is where they get their second chances, where they can live the sorts of lives that they should've had from the start. And what a match it is-- a bunch of scarred up, abused, and neglected horses, getting a better life under the care of an ex-con who didn't get his own life together until after thirty.
Jaskier's not going to put that part in his little Instagram caption, though; would probably ruin the aesthetic or whatever. He doesn't know and, well... he doesn't really need to know, does he? He seems like a decent kid, the kind that wouldn't get mixed up with ex-cons, and it's not like Geralt plans to get involved with him on any level but the professionally friendly. And it's all a matter of public record, anyway, if he wanted to look Geralt up and find out, he always could.
Geralt shrugs in response to the question, dismissively. "Never got one set up. Don't have a website either."
Website management wasn't one of the things that they taught him in prison. He'd have to hire someone to build it and take care of it, and while he can make ends meet comfortably enough with the ranch, he doesn't have a lot left over. And what he does usually just goes right back into the ranch, for repairs or vet bills or calling in the farrier because one of the horses threw a shoe.
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"So this is a sanctuary."
A temple of second chances, taken care of by the only angel with mighty muscles in existence (he would know, he used to be altar boy). The way Geralt had said the real story tells Jaskier how important this is to him as well. He feels like he's learned something about the man - he isn't sure what, exactly, but he cherishes this information all the same.
(Yep, that's a crush already forming, oh dear.)
"I don't have a website either." He comments with a shrug as he adds a bit about 'animal sanctuaries' to his post before finally sending it. "They're a pain to keep up with, and my social media already covers it all. I suppose you could count my youtube channel as my website, if you will. But just an Instagram account would help you immensely - let the picture of the horses do the talking. Maybe some of the trails as well, I bet it's a popular spot for dates."
No donation box, mmh. Jaskier makes a mental note to make his tip generous when the day is over. For now, he puts his phone away to pick up his guitar instead, retrieving the buttercup pick from under the strings on the neck.
"If I can't toss a donation your way, then allow me to toss you a song. What's your favorite, Geralt?"
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If Geralt had any idea about the ridiculous things Jaskier is thinking about him-- a muscled angel, that's a load of rot, he's a grumpy hermit who talks in mostly monosyllables and grunts-- he would have quickly shut them down, set the record straight. Don't glamorize him, don't romanticize him. He's not some gallant hero.
But the idea of getting some kind of social media account... well, it's probably not a bad one. He could use more customers to get a little more cash flow into the place, since there are some repairs and new equipment that he'd like to get. It would be nice to be able to hire some extra help so that he could spend more time with Ciri. If he really got a good, steady increase, maybe he could even think about expanding the barn and taking more horses...
"Hm." Another hum, but this one with a more considering tone. He'd think about it. Maybe he could ask Ciri about how to set up one of those Instagrams.
The musician gets his guitar and pulls out a clear pick that has some kind of yellow flower encapsulated inside it and asks for a request. Geralt considers it for a moment; he does, actually, like plenty of music, so he could name something that could be played on one guitar. But--
"Know how to play blessed silence?"
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His gentle smile changes to a face of surprise and indignation, however, when Geralt makes his request - if it can be called that.
"Blessed silence! The nerve! The scandal!" He exclaims as he puts a hand on his chest, trying to guess if the man is serious or not and deciding it doesn't matter, because even if it's a joke, he's going to be a drama queen anyway. "I'll have you know, good sir, I don't go in for that--"
He suddenly interrupts himself when he remembers something, and his lips go from gaping fish to mischievous grin. Guitar position is fixed on his lap, hands test the strings, voice is cleared twice, and then Jaskier starts playing a very particular song.
"♪ Enjoy the silence you've invited, without a sound and be excited. Blessed silence, blessed silence. ♪"
How about that for fulfilling that request?
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