[He's about to repeat it for a few hours if Hector is really meaning to ply him with a bath.
He is so incredibly thankful for the first time that he cannot bring anything out there in here; as his mind slips out of his body, so too does the exhaustion, at least for the most part, leave him. The ache he feels in his arm is now a dull thud he can ignore, like an old bruise nearly healed.
Though Hector's cottage reminds him of Geralt's, he's certainly not allowing himself to give a thought to his friend at the moment. Once Hector is in eyesight, the bird gives a little croon -- though it's hard to say whether it's excitement at seeing Hector again, or a reflection of how Jaskier's heart skips a beat.
He gives him a wave, and when in arm's length, pulls him into a too-tight embrace, in which he also kisses his cheek.] Hello again, my handsome little devil. [And for a moment, where he hides his face against Hector's hair, his tone takes on the fact he feels too much, all at once, relief and fondness and an overwhelming affection for Hector's quiet offering.
And by the time he pulls away, he's pulled himself together again. Luckily the Horizon does not reflect him as he is right now in that bed, neither fucked up hair or baggy eyes or a dreadful pallor he's held for a week. No, here, he gets to be as bright as a spring chicken, with a bright blue doublet and warm cream chemise that he intends to take off very slowly.] Not that I mean to rush things along, but I must see what you've come up with.
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He is so incredibly thankful for the first time that he cannot bring anything out there in here; as his mind slips out of his body, so too does the exhaustion, at least for the most part, leave him. The ache he feels in his arm is now a dull thud he can ignore, like an old bruise nearly healed.
Though Hector's cottage reminds him of Geralt's, he's certainly not allowing himself to give a thought to his friend at the moment. Once Hector is in eyesight, the bird gives a little croon -- though it's hard to say whether it's excitement at seeing Hector again, or a reflection of how Jaskier's heart skips a beat.
He gives him a wave, and when in arm's length, pulls him into a too-tight embrace, in which he also kisses his cheek.] Hello again, my handsome little devil. [And for a moment, where he hides his face against Hector's hair, his tone takes on the fact he feels too much, all at once, relief and fondness and an overwhelming affection for Hector's quiet offering.
And by the time he pulls away, he's pulled himself together again. Luckily the Horizon does not reflect him as he is right now in that bed, neither fucked up hair or baggy eyes or a dreadful pallor he's held for a week. No, here, he gets to be as bright as a spring chicken, with a bright blue doublet and warm cream chemise that he intends to take off very slowly.] Not that I mean to rush things along, but I must see what you've come up with.