It was better off that Geralt wasn't the mind-reader that Yennefer was-- he might have thrown Jaskier into the fountain and shook the hands of horse-thieves before going back to the inn and getting stunningly drunk. Instead he stood opposite the two thugs who decided to physically bar the larger man from their fellow at the fountain and exhaled slowly. "Jaskier. Just--"

But just what was left for another moment, because the man with the knife took Geralt's words to mean that he was distracted, and lunged at him with a knife. His lunge was too long, sloppy in its overstretch, and the witcher moved liked water. A step to the side seemed slow for its precision and as the knife and the man's arm slipped into the space that he had occupied a moment before, Geralt brought an arm down from above. The thief screamed as his ulna snapped and the knife he dropped in pain was caught off-handed before hitting the ground and launched cleanly at his gaping friend even as Geralt was using his crouch to shoulder check the injured man off his feet and onto the ground. The knife stuck into the other's hip and he too dropped with a cry.

It all took less than twenty seconds. Geralt straightened without bothering to retrieve the knife and started toward the third man who was still being very helpful.