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Geralt wasn’t overly fond of Cidaris. Like most big cities in the Continent it was loud, busy and stank of piss and sewage, but he still found himself sat in the musky old tavern on the edge of the city for the third time that month. There weren’t even any contracts left around Cidaris. Honestly he was running out of excuses. The local bard, dressed more extravagantly than any normal tavern bard, was prancing around the tables. Geralt suspected that the bard had run away from his court duties, judging by his clothes and the soft scent of lavender that clung to him. Geralt rolled his eyes as the bard winked at a lass nearby and she almost swooned, none of them realised this was all a game played by the bard to relieve them of their coin.
Coin that would be lining Geralt’s pockets soon enough.
As predicted when the bard had finished gathering up the change and bowing flamboyantly to the audience, he slid into the bench opposite Geralt. He tossed the fringe from his eyes, flexing his fingers as he stared at Geralt.
“Sooo… Witcher, three words or less?”
Geralt tried to hide his smile but he knew the bard had seen. He’d asked Geralt that every time Geralt had visited the tavern. Geralt had given little criticisms, masked compliments, but never anymore than three words, but this time he had a question of his own.
“What’s your name?”
The bard scoffed. “That’s hardly a review, Geralt.”
Geralt shrugged. “You asked for three words.”
The bard narrowed his eyes and poked Geralt’s chest. “Is this what happens? Offer you some coin a couple of times and you start hanging around waiting for more? A domesticated witcher,” the bard laughed, a beautiful melodic laugh that had Geralt’s heart fluttering in his chest “How quaint?”
“And your drinks weren’t poisoned. Be grateful, bard,” Geralt shot back.
“Jaskier.”
Geralt raised an eyebrow at the bard. “Buttercup?”
“Yeah yeah, laugh away, see if I give you anymore coin,” Jaskier muttered but he was smiling behind his tankard. “So what’s it like, on the path?”
Geralt tilted his head, with a fond smile. He wondered when his bard friend would ask this. He’d sensed a restlessness in Jaskier ever since they first met. He just didn’t have the right disposition for a court bard. The travelling life would suit him but better. “More interesting than here.”
“Right, yeah… lonely though?” Jaskier smiled back, looking up at Geralt through his eyelashes.
“Hmm, yeah.”
“I could come with you? If you’d like?”
Geralt met Jaskier’s gaze, looking intently for any trace of hesitation or regret but he found none. “It’s dangerous.”
Jaskier just grinned, cockily, not really knowing what he was agreeing to. “Counting on it.”
“Fine,” Geralt grunted, trying not to seem too happy. It wouldn’t be very good for a witcher’s reputation if he came across too friendly. Friendly and monster hunting didn’t exactly go hand in hand.
“Excellent!” Jaskier cried, patting Geralt on the shoulder as he stood up in a hurry. “Wait here, I’ll go grab my lute and pack. Won’t take long!”
Geralt chuckled, a thrum of excitement in his heart for the first time in decades. Maybe this year wouldn’t be quite so lonely after all.