Geralt took his halting, uncomfortable admissions in stride. It was quite remarkable and the shot he snatched up and pressed into Jaskier's hands remained as the bard tried to process the first of his follow ups.
Did he want Iris to forgive him?
Yes, enough that the very idea, the possibility, made his chest tighten suddenly and uncomfortably. He had given up that hope more than a decade ago--fuck, the idea startled enough that Jaskier actually felt himself getting misty-eyed over it. He frowned and shook his head and downed that shot without bothering to answer.
No answer was, in its way, an answer, was it not?
"Now, don't be mad," Jaskier continued idly, the burn of the shot making his voice a bit rough. Something changed in his countenance then--the terror of the party didn't lift, but he was able to set it aside, and his normal, wheedling, cajoling cadence peeked through.
"I may--may, mind you--have promised that you would regale a few of my relatives with...tales of your hunts."
no subject
Did he want Iris to forgive him?
Yes, enough that the very idea, the possibility, made his chest tighten suddenly and uncomfortably. He had given up that hope more than a decade ago--fuck, the idea startled enough that Jaskier actually felt himself getting misty-eyed over it. He frowned and shook his head and downed that shot without bothering to answer.
No answer was, in its way, an answer, was it not?
"Now, don't be mad," Jaskier continued idly, the burn of the shot making his voice a bit rough. Something changed in his countenance then--the terror of the party didn't lift, but he was able to set it aside, and his normal, wheedling, cajoling cadence peeked through.
"I may--may, mind you--have promised that you would regale a few of my relatives with...tales of your hunts."