The words and tone from the man's mouth did not match and Geralt made a low noise that was the very opposite of pleased. Jaskier's hand on his arm could stop literally nothing and a small voice at the back of the Witcher's head-- ignored-- said that perhaps it was time to show the bard how very little control he really had over any given situation. Ignored, always ignored. Which was how they had found themself here. "You and the word discretion have never been uttered in the same sentence," he growled out into the not large space between them, as he had crowded Jaskier back to make his point--failed--with physical bulk.

Failed, always failed.

"Why must you be like this? Behave like this? Do you think that I'd ever offer your cock another sideways glance if I thought for a moment that this is how you would react? For everyone's sake, Jaskier, grow up." With another shove, this one half-hearted, Geralt shook off the man's touch and moved away. It was that easy, after all.