![]() He's going to ask if Geralt could maybe stick around for another day or so, spend some time with his friend, when a pretty young waitress carrying a plate shows up at their table. "I'll be moving on tomorrow," Geralt says, through a mouthful of his meal. "I'm glad our paths have crossed again! How long are you staying?" Jaskier asks, sipping an ale while Geralt digs into a big, steaming plate of what Jaskier hopes is not wyvern guts. Geralt had returned to town-not triumphantly, Geralt very rarely does anything in a way that can be considered triumphant-with a sack full of wyvern parts and, after he'd dumped the sack directly onto the alderman's desk, had joined Jaskier in the tavern. Geralt had rolled in three days ago, answering a posting from the town alderman to help clear out the wyverns in the hills above town. Jaskier's been in town for a month now, regular public performances at the town's inn and occasional private performances in the town's bedchambers. "You slept with the mayor." Geralt sighs and shakes his head. Instead of directly answering any of them, Jaskier says, forced brightness in his voice, "Come on, Geralt, life is too short to deny ourselves its pleasures." It feels like there are a couple of different questions in there. Geralt waits until the door closes behind her to turn to Jaskier. ![]() With that, she gets up and leaves the tavern. You'd be wise to stay in town no longer than your business keeps you here." "But I've got my eye on you, and no mistake. "The witcher vouches for you, bard," the mayor's wife says, giving both of them an incredibly suspicious look. "I told the esteemed lady that she must be mistaken." Geralt gives him a stern look, matching the one the mayor's wife is giving him. "Surely they're not that surprising?" Jaskier says under his breath, just loud enough for Geralt to hear, as he slides into the seat next to Geralt. He recognizes the insignia stitched onto her handkerchief now. "Jaskier," Geralt says, his voice deliberately calm, "The mayor's wife has been making some surprising accusations." He doesn't recognize the woman, and besides, there's no way she'd be this angry if they'd slept together. There's anger in her eyes and venom in her voice. " You," she says, looking straight at him. But this one is different: she's dressed much more nicely than the rest of the clientele of this run-down little tavern on the edge of town, and she looks up when Jaskier approaches the table. Women are often intrigued by his rakish good looks and his stand-offish demeanor, which they mistake for playing hard to get. When Jaskier returns from the privy, there is a woman at the table with Geralt. "Oh? What's that?" Jaskier manages to wheeze. When he opens his eyes, Geralt is standing above him. Geralt's already going to give him enough shit as it is. The wind is definitely knocked out of him, and he lies on the forest floor for a moment or two, eyes closed, trying to recover without looking like he's trying to recover. Jaskier manages not to land on his head or his neck (or his lute) but only just. ![]() "Now that we've all had a laugh about it, can you please cut me down?" He hears Geralt chuckling from somewhere behind him. "Okay, fine, I didn't think that far ahead." Jaskier sighs. ![]() "Or," Jaskier tries again, "Perhaps my singing would lift your spirits, give you the boost you needed to finish the fight." The swinging motion has turned into a slow rotation, taking Geralt out of his field of view. "Music soothes the savage beast," Jaskier says, a little snippily. What exactly did you think you were doing, tromping into the woods after me? If I hadn't been able to handle it on my own, surely you didn't think you could help?" "The contract specified an endrega queen, and I had to find it first. Jaskier's seen that look a lot, but never from above before. How long could it possibly take to kill an endrega?" "And, again, you also told me you'd be back by mid-morning. The scent of monster guts wafts up to Jaskier, and he coughs a little. "I told you to stay in the camp." Geralt walks around on the forest floor below him. "You said you'd be back by mid-morning, and I don't know if you'd noticed, but it is currently late afternoon." He'd only just managed to stop swinging, and his stomach still hasn't recovered. The force of the movement starts him swinging again, which is terrible. "You were gone for way more than a minute," Jaskier says, crossing his arms. He's hanging upside down from a tree, ten feet in the air, the rope loop of some kind of trap tight around one ankle. "I leave you alone for one minute," Geralt grumbles, looking up at Jaskier.
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