The innkeeper's wife was a lovely woman, always helpful, always with a sympathetic look to the bard when he went to request this or that. He'd thought she'd be elated to see Geralt up and...well, not about, per se, but awake and alive. She'd been one of the ones who helped haul him onto the table when they'd arrived back in town--honestly, she'd seen him in a far worse state than nude and in a tub.
And yet, after he'd paid the blacksmith's son (a teenager with a grand sense of adventure) to go and search for Geralt's sword, and returned, he had expected to greet her by the door, to smile and chat a bit as he got that water. He hadn't thought she'd have taken the water up herself (the dear) and was absolutely staggered as he came back up stairs--he heard her shriek and then she blew past him, running down the hall in a blind fright.
His first concern, off course, was Geralt and he charged into the room to find...that the Witcher was precisely where he'd left him. What?
He stared, then looked at the pitchers of steaming water, and then glanced back out the door. His expression went a touch sour.
"Rude," he declared and kicked the door shut as he fetched up one of the pitchers.
"She was just in here the day before last! Said you looked much better! You'd think she'd be happy to see you out of bed!"
He dumped the warm water into the tub without thinking overmuch and set the empty pitcher aside. If the sudden heat was a shock to the Witcher, Jaskier didn't notice--he was too busy shooting a glare at the closed door. He retook his seat with a huff and, as he did, plucked up a bar of castille soap from his supplies and dug back into that creme cleanser.
"Some people," he huffed and held the bar out for Geralt--oh, who was still leaning against the side. He retracted the bar a bit and his expression softened. "Are you alright, my friend? Do you need more water? Something to eat? I can hurry this along if it's taxing for you."
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And yet, after he'd paid the blacksmith's son (a teenager with a grand sense of adventure) to go and search for Geralt's sword, and returned, he had expected to greet her by the door, to smile and chat a bit as he got that water. He hadn't thought she'd have taken the water up herself (the dear) and was absolutely staggered as he came back up stairs--he heard her shriek and then she blew past him, running down the hall in a blind fright.
His first concern, off course, was Geralt and he charged into the room to find...that the Witcher was precisely where he'd left him. What?
He stared, then looked at the pitchers of steaming water, and then glanced back out the door. His expression went a touch sour.
"Rude," he declared and kicked the door shut as he fetched up one of the pitchers.
"She was just in here the day before last! Said you looked much better! You'd think she'd be happy to see you out of bed!"
He dumped the warm water into the tub without thinking overmuch and set the empty pitcher aside. If the sudden heat was a shock to the Witcher, Jaskier didn't notice--he was too busy shooting a glare at the closed door. He retook his seat with a huff and, as he did, plucked up a bar of castille soap from his supplies and dug back into that creme cleanser.
"Some people," he huffed and held the bar out for Geralt--oh, who was still leaning against the side. He retracted the bar a bit and his expression softened. "Are you alright, my friend? Do you need more water? Something to eat? I can hurry this along if it's taxing for you."