Jaskier watches with something akin to silent horror as Yennefer withdraws her hand from his and then settles it in Valdo's hand. He's not sure what he's expecting, but Valdo reads the sudden wideness of his eyes and slight gape of his mouth as something else entirely. Offense perhaps? Yennefer offers him a smile that is not friendly and Jaskier nearly chokes as she says the words 'crab dance' to the Troubadour's face.
Then he wags that finger and calls her lamb and Jaskier wants nothing more than to punch Valdo in his ridiculous, handsome face.
"Valdo, honestly," Jaskier starts, a note of exasperation in his tone, but the Troubadour interrupts him as he draws his lips back from Yennefer's hand.
"I do hope the second seat is for this gorgeous creature," Valdo says, his green eyes locked up on Yennefer as he rises. It is a look that Jaskier finds repulsive now, but Valdo wields it well. That alone had gotten him into the sixteen year old Jaskier's bed without hardly any help.
"It is, in fact," Jaskier replies peevishly and Valdo clucks his tongue as he releases Yennefer's hand and looks back at him. Jaskier has no claim on Yennefer, not beyond a close friendship, but he would rather face her ire than let Marx stomp around her like a clumsy rutting tomcat. Jaskier isn't quite thinking straight as he extends his arm and wraps it around the sorceress's waist. He draws her to his side rather abruptly and Valdo lets out a rolling, utterly grating laugh.
"Oh, no need to be so sour, poppet," Valdo chides and has the gall to reach out and knock Jaskier's chin up with a finger. Jaskier glowers and swats his hand which earns him another fond, frustratingly smug look. Damn it all, they've made a spectacle and he's already wrong-footed.
"Your lovely lady friend is more than welcome to any seat bearing my name," Valdo drawls and the innuendo is not subtle, nor is his glance back at Yennefer. Valdo's eyes linger and he takes a deep, almost nostalgic breath as he savors her perfume.
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Then he wags that finger and calls her lamb and Jaskier wants nothing more than to punch Valdo in his ridiculous, handsome face.
"Valdo, honestly," Jaskier starts, a note of exasperation in his tone, but the Troubadour interrupts him as he draws his lips back from Yennefer's hand.
"I do hope the second seat is for this gorgeous creature," Valdo says, his green eyes locked up on Yennefer as he rises. It is a look that Jaskier finds repulsive now, but Valdo wields it well. That alone had gotten him into the sixteen year old Jaskier's bed without hardly any help.
"It is, in fact," Jaskier replies peevishly and Valdo clucks his tongue as he releases Yennefer's hand and looks back at him. Jaskier has no claim on Yennefer, not beyond a close friendship, but he would rather face her ire than let Marx stomp around her like a clumsy rutting tomcat. Jaskier isn't quite thinking straight as he extends his arm and wraps it around the sorceress's waist. He draws her to his side rather abruptly and Valdo lets out a rolling, utterly grating laugh.
"Oh, no need to be so sour, poppet," Valdo chides and has the gall to reach out and knock Jaskier's chin up with a finger. Jaskier glowers and swats his hand which earns him another fond, frustratingly smug look. Damn it all, they've made a spectacle and he's already wrong-footed.
"Your lovely lady friend is more than welcome to any seat bearing my name," Valdo drawls and the innuendo is not subtle, nor is his glance back at Yennefer. Valdo's eyes linger and he takes a deep, almost nostalgic breath as he savors her perfume.