Geralt took great pains to ignore the way that Jaskier seemed to want to idly hang onto himself-- as if he were wielding a club which he might be prone to begin bludgeoning an unsuspecting subject with quite suddenly-- until the man spoke up about the head. He shifted slightly so that he could see the bard. "A boy." Leave it to Jaskier to send a child to fetch a nightmare.

"At least there's that." Geralt tried to gather a large inhale and then winced as his side objected sharply. "We can find someone who'll buy it." He snorted and then cursed as his side objected that, too. "Hell," he said in more of a monotone once he could breathe again, "Yen might want it, and you know how she is about throwing money at things she wants. Maybe she'll crush all those teeth down into a face powder, or lotion." Now if he could just get out of bed. Geralt looked at Jaskier. "Two breakfasts," he said, determinedly working his way up the headboard into a sitting position. "And get something for yourself as well. The sleep hasn't improved your palor."