[There are only two words that would've had him stop. Jaskier's as bullheaded as a witcher when he wants to be. He's also not a fool. One of those words he knows he'll never fucking hear in his life from Geralt.

Sorry.

But wait is fairly close. He rubs his fingers together rather aggressively, turning back around. At least the tips aren't on fire anymore.

The expression he gives Geralt is level, the edges still a bit bitter.] That's the first thing you say to me? [He sets his hands on his hips. Not surprised at all, despite how fucking bizarre this entire situation is. (He's glad to see a familiar face.)] Half a fortnite. Maybe more. I haven't been exactly been keeping count. Just trying to survive with... [He gestures around them, the hand returning to his hip.] This.