whatupbuttercup | PSL Catchall with Conjurechaos

He let's out a huff of fond laughter as she kisses his eyelids and sits up, pulling free from his idle embrace at last. He watches her, awake and happy, and inclines his head.

"Yes, let's," Jaskier agrees brightly and drags himself up to sit. Getting dressed shall be a trick, but he makes a concerted effort to think of terribly boring, unappealing things as he rises and gathers up his clothing.

Well, most of it. He cannot seem to find his smalls but, then again, he had been terribly drunk when he lost them. He puts up a token search and, by the end of it, has fallen enough that he can shimmy into his trousers and actually make himself presentable. As presentable as he ever is, at least.

"I am actually quite famished--did we eat while we drank? I can't recall."

Rising up out of the bed is the remedy though she ought to be ashamed of herself at how she steals glances at him. The first thing she does is find a means to put a kind of order to her curls, perched at the vanity. From the mirror she watches him pass several times, clothes in his grip.

Yennefer has the audacity to hum to herself. No, it's not the terrible crab dance song. Though his scuttling is very animated. The longest part of her readiness is her face. Simple touches and she is no longer barefaced. The dress she wore the night before remains draped over the chaise. Beneath it are the illusive silk blue he was looking for. A new dress, black with carefully placed pearls of white and black dotting the neckline. Beneath is a new equally small bit of cloth and no effort to bind her breasts.

Well, if he didn't ask. She won't tell.

"You ordered a tray at the tavern." Still thirsty and impatient, she finds the apple juice. It's no longer chilled but still good. The apples were pressed the night before after all. She pours a glass. "I can't rightly tell you what it was. A roast I think?"

He pulls his chemise on, tucks it in as he had himself, and makes some attempt to render himself presentable. His hair is a lost cause but, fortunately, being seen with dreadful bed-head is not even close to a problem for his reputation. His doublet covers the rumples in his chemise well enough and he even buttons it up properly as she pours herself a drink.

"I haven't the faintest--I remember cherries and singing and, oh hell, did I get a poor reaction? I must have been off key all night and not noticed," Jaskier grimaces and lets out a short sigh as he moves to retrieve his lute. In only a few moments, he is fully dressed and looking only slightly less put together than the night prior.

"Shall we?" He asks and holds out an arm for her.

Oh he is lovely. It's unfair. The hair is wholly her fault. The state of his clothes, well, she could have been more careful too she supposes. Though any would cast their gaze upon him and see he cuts a silhouette. Yennefer keeps eyeing him over the rim of her glass.

"No?" Details don't stay as well as emotions. Though it does cause a momentary flutter of dread. He is still present and was willing to bed her a moment earlier. "You did very well, though I'm afraid we may have made a scene and hurt the feelings of a popular barmaid that had been making eyes at you." May as though she wasn't entirely aware of the situation.

Yennefer takes his arm, "The best part about the tavern was the cherry schnapps anyway. There is still the bottle of that. That would be the only reason to return."

The Golden Fawn in daylight hours is clean. The midsummer festival patrons are only just staggering out from their lodging. Jaskier is already winning the contest of who looks not only bedded but presentable enough to pass through the doors of a temple. It's a miraculous feat. There are still tables available. The smell of eggs, potatoes and bacon make her stomach growl.

If he has forgotten anything of note, it doesn't show on his face. He gives her an utterly besotted look as she strolls to his side, as she takes his arm. He settles his own hand atop hers at his elbow and they head down. He draws her seat out once they've joined the crowd and loops his lute around his own chair before stepping back.

"A plate of everything for the lady, I presume?" Jaskier asks and cocks a brow, his own smile implying that he intends to have the same.

He wonders if they have tea--this place is very nice, it is possible they will have an assortment.

The afternoon and into the night had been eventful. Yennefer could not forget that she had learned that her companion was a viscount and a tenderhearted man that could fuck like a beast and lay back prettily to be treated the same. The thought makes her tilt her head to his shoulder briefly before coming to sit.

"Oh yes. And fruit if that is not already included. Tea. Mmm." No, that was not a dip into his thoughts. What fine establishment to offer bath service and salts but not serve tea? The barman was just cleaning away plates and notices Yennefer and then Jaskier. He quickly cleans his hands and toddles over to them.

What will the lovely lady and gent be having this day? Yennefer makes her wishes known. A full platter, and bless the Golden Fawn it comes with fruit. She asks for tea. Attention on Jaskier pauses and his brow furrows. Doesn't he know him from somewhere? Perhaps he hasn't seen the lute.

Jaskier is alight--until he turns to face the barman. Oh, but while he does not recognize the bard, the bard recognizes him. His smile goes a bit panicked and he shoots a darting glance of apology at Yennefer.

"Know me? Oh, I don't--" Jaskier starts, glad he hasn't sat, and carefully reaches to pluck up his lute by the strap. The moment his fingers snare it, the barman's eyes are drawn over and, all at once he can see the recognition bloom across the man's face. Recognition shifts to shock and then, quite predictably, to fury.

"You--!" The man seethes and makes a swiping grab for Jaskier's doublet. The bard dances back, bends to place a quick kiss on Yennefer's head, and slings his lute over his shoulders. The barman, in the meanwhile, has turned redfaced with his rage.

"Well, that is my cue, my dear," Jaskier apologizes and the man moves around Yennefer, babbling through gritted teeth about his wife and Jaskier's diving from the window and, yes Jaskier thought this establishment was familiar--he grimaces and manages to evade him rather deftly as he bolts for the door.

PSL Catchall with Conjurechaos

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