There is still a glow to his eyes as they rest on her. Blue and clearer. Jaskier is a sight, yes. Not the way he is guessing. Playing with this warm wood colored hair has made it lift. The carelessness is charming. The whole of him, not just the face, the eyes, the clever tongue and gentle, bruised heart...all of him charming.

Yennefer can his face now and she can press kisses to his cheeks. And she does once settled into his lap. Over the bridge of his nose and forehead the way folk do at shines and altars, kissing the statues to grant them things they can't possess. She isn't sure of what she is asking for right now though the way he is warm and strong, the way her chest presses up against him.

"Are you going to tell me what I deserve then?" she did not give any thought to her question. Merely what would a sorceress deserve that was not cruelty when she is a mercenary for her own cause? Her lips find his again, slower like before though her's are parted and guide his own to be the same way.