Geralt didn't react to Jaskier right away-- between the crash of the ocean and the strange sectioning of the moonlight, even a witcher's senses had trouble picking one shadow from the many. It took a quiet handful of seconds to catch the motion out of the corner of his eye--a dip of chestnut hair where none should be--but he reacted instantly. Geralt slid through the wall of people and grinned as he headed across the room to the moving bard. There was no need to run because there was nowhere for the man to go.

"You love a crowd, Jaskier. Here they are." Geralt spread his arms. "Maybe I'll put you over my knee and paddle you to start." The sharpness of his husky voice was like the snap of teeth, promising so much more. His long steps ate up the ground between them too quickly even though he was only walking.