It’s a sound he hasn’t heard is a handful of years, at least not from those lips — not with the gruff yet some how warm tone. It’s almost instantaneous the want with which Jaskier desires to forgive his friend — but the stiffness of the wood that sits against his wrist is quiet enough to remind him they’re in a quarrel — he might not be in this predicament if Geralt hadn’t been so oxen headed, hell he would probably be fat with coin and company if the white wolf could just admit to himself he was wrong ; instead of placing all the blame on bardic shoulders.
The guard considers his foe — eyes darting from coin purse to man and back again. He’s heard the stories, knows what’s awaiting him on the other end of this argument. With a sneer he nods and snatches the coin from Geralt’s hand before turning his back to walk away; he’ll need a good excuse if he means to keep his own head out of the stockade tomorrow. He pauses once, to toss the key toward the Witcher, barely bothering to check whether or not he might catch it — from he things he’s heard, Gerald is more than capable.
“Rather you didn’t.” The bard gestures, hands limited by the tight embrace of the stockade. “D’you mind? I’ve been stood here nearly two days and I’m starting to get a crick—“ He mentions, twisting his head ever so slightly left to the resounding tune of a minute wail of pain. Jasper gestures again, this time with his fingers as if to welcome Geralt forward. He hasn’t forgotten their rude depart — but for the moment he’s willing to mend fences, so long as his dear old friend does what he can to release him from this humiliating barbaric prison.
and though witcher eyes remained on the bard, locked tight away in the stockade before him. his hand came to raise, almost by pure instinct to easily catch the key as it was thrown his way, without even a glance back at the guard as he went off his way, with the witcher’s coin. but it got the guard to leave and it got him the key, despite the loss of a few nights sheltered underneath an inn’s roof. but it was not like he could just leave the bard trapped between the panel of woods, not after the harsh words the witcher had once spat at him. perhaps it was a chance for them to start anew? move on from past mistakes and bad days.
❛ no — no, i’m going to ask. i wanna ask. ❜ again, he could already guess the reasoning behind jaskier being locked up in a stockade. but oh, how much better it would be to hear that reasoning come from his own mouth. so, with the key tight in his grip, the witcher crossed his arms over, showing no signs of unlocking the lock to rescue him from his bonds. the smirk that came to grow across geralt’s features, only became stronger, turning into that of a full fledged smile, stretching from ear to ear with wolf teeth shining through.
he would not keep him long, from what jaskier said, two days in the stock would surely do no good on the bard’s back and the sooner he got out, the better he would feel. ❛ so, tell me jaskier. what did you do... this time? ❜ and this time, he was unable to hold back a snigger, that came to escape through the gaps in sharp teeth. and despite his crossed arms, hiding away the key in the crease of his elbow. geralt still approached the stockade, readying himself unlock jaskier from the humiliating sight, with or without an answer to his question. he just wanted to show, in some way... that he held no ill intend towards the bard, despite how their last encounter may have come to an end.
