"They do," Jaskier announces cheerfully and plucks up the lavender and rose salts first--best to scrub and then wash, or so he has always found. He frees his hands long enough to pour some of the scented granules in the palm of one, and then offers it first to her, should she wish to scrub her face or arms. He will merrily scrub the rest of her, given the chance.

"Valdo," Jaskier says and seems equal parts bemused and befuddled that they are still discussing his ex, "is known for his academic pieces. Fine ballads for courts, weddings, funerals, pronouncements, that sort of dreck."

Much though he maligns Marx, even Jaskier has to admit the man has some talent in the finer orchestral arrangements. It was why he'd fallen head over heels for him. Young Jaskier had been too easily impressed by a few complex bits of phrasing and complementary melodies.

Still, he revels in the obvious bias in Yennefer's tone. There is nothing quite like listening to someone as lovely and powerful as her as they distastefully inquire about someone he dislikes.

"And..as for a guild. Yes, technically? They're all a bit cut-throat, honestly, and mired in academia. It mostly comes down to 'Who sang it first?' rather than a question of who wrote it. I would imagine Sorcery would be the same--aren't there any terrible rivalries? Vying for positions? Salacious murders or trysts?"