"The Troubadour of Cidaris has granted me a lovingly sculpted copy of his cock," Jaskier tells her as he sets the box aside on the bed and rises. The sound of burning and the smell of smoke are balms in the moment and he breathes deep, despite that likely being unwise.

"I expect he might regret it if it found its way somewhere it ought not to be. The court of Cidaris might regret him just as keenly," Jaskier tells her and moves to watch as she crushes up the char and ash that Valdo's things have been reduced to.

"Pray tell, is there anyone in Rissberg who might take terrible offense at finding this pretty, personalized thing hiding in someone's bed?"