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Geralt was actually pretty well used to occasionally gaining traveling companions on the road. Some people followed him because they were curious, wanted to see for themselves what the life of a witcher was like. Many were looking for an adventure or two, something to tell their friends once they came trotting back home, never to venture beyond the safe confines of where they belonged again. A few were fellow travelers who happened to be going the same direction and figured they might as well keep each other company, and there were even a few who saw his musculature, his swords, and the way he carried himself, and—once they had discovered he was relatively safe to approach—determined that their odds of safety on the road were likely to be much higher in his presence than out of it.
Yes, Geralt was very accustomed to the occasional traveling companion, for various reasons. He was even accustomed to the sort that didn’t bother to announce their intentions and simply followed after him with nary a greeting or a by-your-leave. Some of them had even become friends, of a sort, though Geralt only ever spoke with most of them in passing or when their travels happened to cross once more.
Jaskier, it seemed, somehow managed to encapsulate all of the above, wrapped up in a singular colorful, noisy package. He was curious about witchers, curious about Geralt in particular. Wanted to see what a life of adventuring was like, and experience a bit of adventure for himself. He wanted these things so he could share those adventures with his music, to make a name for himself. As a traveling bard, he lacked in company on the road, and Geralt was content to treat him like any other traveler who decided that the company of a witcher was better than no company at all. And as a fanciful, peacocking sort of fellow, he was hardly in a position to defend himself if he ran into trouble; Geralt had already pulled him out of far too many scrapes for his own liking, some of them self inflicted. Some days it seemed as though Jaskier had chosen him as his personal bodyguard, to be called upon whenever he found himself in trouble of his own making.
Geralt should have hated the man. He didn’t mind when a companion had ulterior motives when traveling with him; it was, at this point, to be expected. But to have stuck close to a witcher with the express purpose of making use of his talents for personal gain, to act as if his protection was practically guaranteed, treating him like his own personal guard dog... By rights, Geralt should feel slighted and used—and maybe he would have, if it weren’t for one particular factor.
Jaskier stayed.
Not permanently, no—he had his things that he flitted off to attend to, Geralt had his things that were out of Jaskier’s way, and if nothing else, they always parted for the winter. But the thing is, once those duties and obligations had been attended to, once the competitions were over and the friends were visited and the court performances were completed…Jaskier came back. He sought Geralt out. Regularly. For seemingly no reason other than to possibly gather more song material while offering his company.
No one had ever done that before. And somehow, the simple knowledge that when they parted ways, odds were he would see Jaskier again of his own free will…
Somehow that made all the difference.