Her praise brings a smile back to his face and, through the gradually fading haze of alcohol, make him glad. He slings his lute over the chair and takes her hand as he sits once more.

"My thanks, I do hope I lived up to the hype," he tells her and his wry smile underscores the fact that he was his best hypeman. No one talked him up quite as extensively or constantly as Jaskier, himself. He still wondered at the negativity, at the distaste in the air, but he tried not to let it sneak into his mind, to claw at him as he might've otherwise allowed.

"If not, may I offer you another drink?"