Jaskier's surprised 'oof' as he was shoved against the wall went unheard as Geralt crowded him. His wide eyes locked on the amber pair glowering down at him and, for a moment, all he could do was stare. It took seconds for Geralt's words to process and Jaskier, idiot that he was, didn't just nod and agree to the Witcher's terms.

No, nothing in his life could be that easy.

Understanding dawned in his blue eyes and a gradual smile spread over his face.

"You're flustered," Jaskier declared in a quiet, dreamy voice. Geralt's fist, still wrapped up in his doublet and shirt, kept him from drawing more than a wheezing breath but the bard didn't seem even slightly put out by it. No, he was enraptured by this sudden turn of events.

"This is what you look like flustered!" he whispered, full of earnest delight and probably more adoration than was strictly safe to inject into his tone.

"Millions? Wait, not important--" Jaskier continued and reached out to catch the Witcher's forearm between his hands so he couldn't just drop him and walk off again. "Geralt, honestly, I had no idea! I'm sorry--" he didn't sound sorry, he sounded gleeful, "--I will be the very picture of discretion, henceforth!"