[Whew. The word enthusiastic is doing some heavy lifting on account of how understated it is. Even to someone like Jaskier! He's hardly met someone with such a mouth that runs off like his own.

He's now beginning to realize how often he does tend towards the more reserved. Like Viktor, he supposes. Oh, no. Has he truly met a man like himself?

A terrifying prospect.]

Well. I wasn't going to say anything, for one, because I'm not rude. [Only when it comes to Geralt is he.] Go on and prepare it and I can bring it in. I promise to knock.

[He pauses, then pulls her in again. Gods. She really needs to stop scaring the living shit out of him. Is Geralt like this? Is this what having any sort of responsibility for a child is like? Even if Geralt had not claimed her, Jaskier's mind had tended to the child that had grown within Pavetta. Destiny had staked her claim at that banquet, driving their lives to... an utterly bizarre place, honestly.]

I missed you, my dear. You haven't the foggiest how embarrassingly frightened I was to see Nixie alone. [His voice is soft, accompanying another squeeze. Until he gives a little cough.] All right, enough being polite. The bath is sorely needed.