𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧. another afternoon left to his own devices , and the corner that he's holed up in on the second floor balcony clearly isn't out of the way enough if that snide voice can still reach him from half way up the fucking stairs. throws down the remnants of his gwent deck , cards flutter onto the table ---- he'd been trying to find a more ideal set to play for his next game , but no matter. smile is sure but stare is livid. if jaskier were a cat his tail would flick with a dangerous impatience right about now , but he's not , and so he has to settle for contemptuous mirth alone. ' likely much less than you'd trail after even a crumb of ingenuity if you'd ever had the chance to discover what it was , valdo. to what do i owe the pleasure of seeing you again , hm? ' @betterbard