The diligent, careful work against her crown makes her sigh and softly moan. Thorough and committed to the task, truly. Leave it to Jaskier to not tie himself to empty promises. All Yennefer will have to do with her locks is brush it and braid it before sleep. "Are you sure you're only a bard and not a barber?" Her head tilts this way and that into Jaskier's hands. Now Yennefer can list is accomplishments beyond the lute.

Facing away, she cups the water to rinse her face. Her own cosmetics are resistant until she wills them not to be. More curiosity and illusion, as if females needed more.

"Marx? That is another bard. Hmmm. Marx... I can't say I've heard the name." One of her shoulders shrug. "Though as you know I am chasing the tail of trend on what is popular where music is concerned. Have you met the man? Or are you sworn rivals on principle?" Yennefer reaches beneath the water to stroke his thigh because she can. "Don't speak ill of cads. Some are most brilliant."