"No."

There were times when he was pressed into something or other that he normally wouldn't do via Jaskier's blind enthusiasm-- festivals were primary examples of things that Jaskier insisted were good for the soul and often dragged Geralt to in order to rekindle the flames of his heart-- but the line was firmly drawn at murder dinner theater. He glanced at Jaskier's face and shook his head. "The money is for the horse." It clearly wasn't the reason he'd said no but it gave them both the excuse to move on. "Just find us an inn with decent food and clean mattresses." He glanced at Roach as he lead the mare, as if he knew that she, at least, agreed that a night spent relaxing was the best way to go. Her hooves struck a harsh sound on the cobblestones as they walked.

What he wanted was to find the man a horse and get back on the road. "What didn't you like about the horses you passed on?" Perhaps it was best to work backwards. If Jaskier didn't know what he wanted then maybe he could pick out what he didn't like. "Most of those horses were good stock and would have been fine mounts."