"Oh get your head out of your ass," Geralt snapped, angry, just letting himself feel it, not bothering to rein it in as he turned back into the onslaught. The sight of Jaskier almost made him bite his tongue-- he'd never seen the man's face quite that color in the time they'd been together, never heard his voice hit that stinging register-- but drew himself up, his shoulders set and tight. Ready to battle if it would be a battle.
The truth was that the last two days had not been long and boring. He liked horses and despite Jaskier being particular, Geralt had no qualms about spending time surrounded by the smell of leather and manure and the damned hyacinthe that the man bought in his soaps. He wanted Jaskier to have a horse, for them to... to be on more equal ground.
Fuck, maybe this was all his fault.
"I don't care how many people you bed unless it gets a kettle chucked at me through a window by some scorned woman and you damn well know it," he barked back. "And you won't shut up! What else am I supposed to do other than throw you into walls and tell you the truth? Tell me, then, Jaskier. How in the hell do I stop your infernal mouth?"
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The truth was that the last two days had not been long and boring. He liked horses and despite Jaskier being particular, Geralt had no qualms about spending time surrounded by the smell of leather and manure and the damned hyacinthe that the man bought in his soaps. He wanted Jaskier to have a horse, for them to... to be on more equal ground.
Fuck, maybe this was all his fault.
"I don't care how many people you bed unless it gets a kettle chucked at me through a window by some scorned woman and you damn well know it," he barked back. "And you won't shut up! What else am I supposed to do other than throw you into walls and tell you the truth? Tell me, then, Jaskier. How in the hell do I stop your infernal mouth?"