[While Jaskier's stay in Aefenglom had not been really terrible at all -- aside from the cosmic kidnapping, which he's forgiven by now -- far be it from him to ignore a party. What kind of man would he be?
He's managed to at least make enough coin to buy soap at this point, and is wearing the brig reds of his leathers from the mountain so he cannot easily be missed in a sea of white. His red doublet is mostly unbuttoned (the medieval equivalent of sexy cleavage), his lute strapped to his back. Of course, even if he wasn't exactly invited to perform, he suspects not many would complain outright --
He spies possibly one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen. Jaskier abruptly ducks around several men to find her again, not especially turned off by the white wedding gear she's clothed in (which does not leave much of her form to the imagination. Has he mentioned he adores the fashion here?)
She may have been saying that to someone else, but Jaskier, hoo boy. He knows invitations when he sees them.
And he has never been shy a day in his life. He snakes in beside her at the bar, adjusting his lute to possibly block any interference from behind him.]
My lady! Curses upon the sort of man so foolish as to leave a vision like you behind! [He's already dropping a few cunes on the bar. He's a sucker for a damsel, and also he could use a drink himself. This is 100% win/win.] What would you like? If you must drown your sorrows, you're welcome to whatever your heart desires!
Poppin'!
He's managed to at least make enough coin to buy soap at this point, and is wearing the brig reds of his leathers from the mountain so he cannot easily be missed in a sea of white. His red doublet is mostly unbuttoned
(the medieval equivalent of sexy cleavage), his lute strapped to his back. Of course, even if he wasn't exactly invited to perform, he suspects not many would complain outright --He spies possibly one of the most beautiful women he's ever seen. Jaskier abruptly ducks around several men to find her again, not especially turned off by the white wedding gear she's clothed in (which does not leave much of her form to the imagination. Has he mentioned he adores the fashion here?)
She may have been saying that to someone else, but Jaskier, hoo boy. He knows invitations when he sees them.
And he has never been shy a day in his life. He snakes in beside her at the bar, adjusting his lute to possibly block any interference from behind him.]
My lady! Curses upon the sort of man so foolish as to leave a vision like you behind! [He's already dropping a few cunes on the bar. He's a sucker for a damsel, and also he could use a drink himself. This is 100% win/win.] What would you like? If you must drown your sorrows, you're welcome to whatever your heart desires!