I do think Geralt is deeply endeared by Jaskier's ability to insult and mock people, probably lets him ramble a bit before breaking up the fight just bc its funny
For a heartbeat, Jaskier’s expression stilled—an eerie lull, like the hush of a forest moments before lightning remembers the sky.
“What I am hearing,” he announced, rising with the sanctified gravity of a man delivering last rites to common sense itself, “is not criticism. It is the unfortunate echo of a gentleman whose wit perished at birth and was interred thereafter in an unmarked grave—presumably out of consideration for public health.”
The words hung in the air like a drawn blade, gleaming and indiscreet. A silent warning rippled through those nearby: brace yourselves, or flee while dignity still permits it.
Undeterred by the growing tension—or perhaps nourished by it—Jaskier pressed on, brightness sharpening into something almost radiant and cruel.
“If ignorance were minted coin,” he continued sweetly, “you, my good sir, would be a sovereign hoard unto yourself. Though I suspect even beggars would cross the street rather than share a cup with you, lest stupidity prove contagious through mere proximity.”
A chair shrieked against the floorboards.
A knife appeared in his grip with the unremarkable ease of long habit, as though violence were merely another tool in his trade, like coinpurse or breath.
This was typically the moment where the room’s story fractured into chaos.
Geralt of Rivia lifted his drink with unhurried patience, as if time itself had grown mildly inconvenient.
Jaskier leaned in, eyes alight with theatrical delight. “Oh, splendid. A blade. How refreshingly inventive. I do hope you’ve at least honed it on something more stimulating than your personality.”
A low tide of unease rolled through the inn. Someone whispered a prayer. Someone else quietly placed coin on wood, as though wagering on inevitability rather than outcome.
And only then did Geralt move
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