Find what's worth fighting for

Geralt looks up to see Gabrielle smack a metal pan with a wooden spatula, recreating the bang and causing Joxer to jolt to his feet with much muttering of sleep-confused threats. “Okay, ya don't gotta shine, but we do have to rise and get out of here. Wakey wakey!” “Oh, Gabrielle, you're cruel,” Jaskier murmurs, rubbing sleep from his eyes. “I was having the most wonderful dream.” “Yeah, well, you can dream all you want once we get you home. If we wanna make it to Olympus before nightfall, we better get moving.” There's an anxiety coming off her that Geralt hadn't smelled before. Jaskier's eyes finally clear and he looks at Geralt, a satisfied smile slipping onto his face. Gods, he's beautiful. “Good morning, I hope,” he mutters. Geralt lets out an amused snort. “Could be. We'd better not piss off Gabrielle anymore.” As if to prove his point, Gabrielle bangs the pot three more times to emphasize her final, “Rise! And! Shine!” before tucking the cookware back into her bag. “We're rising!” Jaskier nearly shrieks, raising his good hand to massage his temple. “We're rising,” he grumbles, pushing himself up and leaving a cold spot in his wake.

Can't I have a little self-destruction