He is haggling with a shopkeeper selling cheese, all eloquent hands and loud exclamations. He cannot understand how someone like Jaskier could ever feel overlooked.ĭays later, Geralt watches Jaskier from across the marketplace. Geralt looks at him, and he thinks of that night in Lyria. He knows just how to read the room, just what to do to ensure that he and Geralt get what they need and his audience leaves with smiles on their faces. He’s radiant like this, in his element even amongst farmers and blacksmiths in some backwater town he may never see again. He is performing as usual, dancing about the tavern with all the joy and elegance of an otter in the ocean. Sleep, despite his best efforts, is a long time coming.ĭays later, Geralt watches Jaskier from across the tavern. He rolls over so his back is to Jaskier, and does his best to ignore the emotions. He tries not to think about it He needs to rest. Slowly, Geralt finishes taking off his armour and gets into his own bed. Thinking about it makes Geralt feel strangely unhappy. He hadn’t thought the bard could ever feel that way, living surrounded by people and laughter as he always does. It’s strange to think of Jaskier feeling sad or lonely. Geralt looks at him for a long moment, watching his chest rise and fall thinking about what he’s just heard. “Nobody’s mine,” he says sadly, and closes his eyes. Jaskier flops backwards onto the bed and stares at the ceiling. “I’m sorry,” Geralt says again, not sure what to do. Geralt thinks he is either very upset or very drunk. Usually, the bard is content to hide his more melancholy feelings behind a wall of speech and smiles. It’s strange to see Jaskier so openly distressed. I say I’m theirs ‘n they never say it back. “‘S just… I wanna have someone be mine, y’ know?” Jaskier slurs. It isn’t his fault that he isn’t good at sticking around - if anything, it’s Geralt’s for traveling so much. He loves almost everyone he meets, wholly and genuinely. Geralt’s heart clenches a little, because he knows Jaskier did love the baker’s daughter, in his own way. “She left me!” Jaskier cries, looking mournfully up at Geralt. He helps Jaskier to his bed, sits him down, and awkwardly pats him on the shoulder. He stares morosely at the wall behind Geralt for a moment, then suddenly bursts into tears. “Geralt! You’re back!” says Jaskier, obviously drunk. Then he hears clumsy footsteps thumping up to the door, and the object of his thoughts stumbles into the room. He thinks idly that he shouldn’t have bothered to pay for a room with two beds. Geralt does not expect Jaskier to be back tonight. He has just finished an unusually long hunt, and Jaskier seems to have taken advantage of the time spent in one town to have an affair with the baker’s daughter. Geralt sits in a room in a backwater tavern somewhere in Lyria, preparing for bed. Thank you so much for the prompt, my friend!! I had a lot of fun with this.
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