Jaskier was easily distracted at the best of time--now, well into his cups, stewed in a strange mix of despondency and exciting new appreciation, and caught between a conversation about a man he loved and hated, a magical tale he could spin into golden coin, and the game he was absolutely not losing--
She could've pointed over his shoulder and he'd have whipped around before she finished the gesture.
Licking her hand had his absolute and full attention and his gaze lingered on her thumb, even as his face soured a bit at her laugh. Indignation overcame--well, it overcame--and he bristled a bit as he looked at her face again.
"And why not both? Hm?" A warrior princess who saves a beast with a kiss--that was terribly romantic. Oh, better yet, a Witcher princess--no--he had to stop. Princess Witcher? STOP.
Jaskier stamped down that whole line of thought and punctuated it with an idle sip of the alcohol in hand. Or he would have, had he not tilted the cup to find it empty. That had gone...rather quickly, hadn't it? By the time he set his empty cup down, she had finished her question, and his indignation was back.
He pointed a finger at her, wagged it like a school-marm scolding unruly children.
"No-no-no-no--" he balked, tone aghast, and leaned further across the table. The food in front of him smelled divine--he didn't resist the urge to pluck up another piece of meat and toss it into his mouth. Unfortunately this meant that he had to chew before he could finish objecting.
"Am I--" he said as he swallowed, "meant to believe that those--those--" He was out of words and cast about, coming back with something more florid than he ought to have used but still up to the task: "Amethyst orbs of yours, glittering all pretty and impossible in that whole...." He gestured with that hand, openly, to the whole of her head. "Face--"
"Am I meant to believe those weren't gifts from the elves?" He asked and leaned back, folded his arms across his chest and cocked both brows up as he stared at her. Checkmate, Yennefer. "I call absolute hogwash, madam--we both drink on that one or naught at all."
no subject
She could've pointed over his shoulder and he'd have whipped around before she finished the gesture.
Licking her hand had his absolute and full attention and his gaze lingered on her thumb, even as his face soured a bit at her laugh. Indignation overcame--well, it overcame--and he bristled a bit as he looked at her face again.
"And why not both? Hm?" A warrior princess who saves a beast with a kiss--that was terribly romantic. Oh, better yet, a Witcher princess--no--he had to stop. Princess Witcher? STOP.
Jaskier stamped down that whole line of thought and punctuated it with an idle sip of the alcohol in hand. Or he would have, had he not tilted the cup to find it empty. That had gone...rather quickly, hadn't it? By the time he set his empty cup down, she had finished her question, and his indignation was back.
He pointed a finger at her, wagged it like a school-marm scolding unruly children.
"No-no-no-no--" he balked, tone aghast, and leaned further across the table. The food in front of him smelled divine--he didn't resist the urge to pluck up another piece of meat and toss it into his mouth. Unfortunately this meant that he had to chew before he could finish objecting.
"Am I--" he said as he swallowed, "meant to believe that those--those--" He was out of words and cast about, coming back with something more florid than he ought to have used but still up to the task: "Amethyst orbs of yours, glittering all pretty and impossible in that whole...." He gestured with that hand, openly, to the whole of her head. "Face--"
"Am I meant to believe those weren't gifts from the elves?" He asked and leaned back, folded his arms across his chest and cocked both brows up as he stared at her. Checkmate, Yennefer. "I call absolute hogwash, madam--we both drink on that one or naught at all."