And here I was hoping it'd be just the two of us tonight. [ He means it half in jest, already curious as to what Jaskier's brought along. Cid heads down from his room at the Sarstina and lets himself outside when he doesn't see Jaskier anywhere in the busy tavern.
The bard himself has a colorful enough wardrobe that he easily stands out from a crowd, but for once he's been upstaged by the bright yellow feathers of his mount. ]
Bloody hell, Jaskier. [ He'd mentioned that he had a chocobo, but Cid had yet to see it for himself until this very moment. He jogs the last few steps and stops before her, waiting until she lowers her head before he reaches for it to give her a gentle scratch. Even the smell that people often complained of fills him with an odd pang of nostalgia for home. ] Been eating well, have you? Taking advantage of our friends good graces?
[ Aside from being a bit chubby, she seems well cared for. He turns back to Jaskier with a grin. ] You've got quite the affinity for birds. What's her name?
Don't you worry your pretty little head. It'll still just be the two of us by then.
[There's not a chance in hell he's letting a bird, even his giant, beloved bird, to get in the way of... meddlings.
But he can't say he isn't glad to have brought her, if only to see Cid's face light up. That nostalgic then, is she? So he hadn't been lying. Not there there was a reason to do so, it's only... perhaps she'll be glad to meet someone who knows her kind, too. As if she recognizes being admired (or having learned from her caretaker), the bird preens, her pretty golden feathers fluffing up with a chirrup. Into his hands her head goes, bumping into Cid's body.]
I'm doing my best with what I've been told. I'm afraid such glorious creatures have no mirror on my sphere. [But he's quite proud of her. She loves her runs, her gysahl greens (or the closet approximation Jaskier can make), and going to visit the wild birds still out in the Badlands.
Jaskier pats her side, just under her wing where she likes to be scratched. An affinity for birds -- so he does.] Feainna. Ciri named her. It means "sunny" in the Elder tongue, the elven language from my world. [Feainna begins to sniff about Cid's body, as if looking for secret treats. When she meets new people, there's often treats.] Is she much like the ones from your home?
[ Cid chuckles, scratching under her chin when she all but bowls him over. ] Aren't you friendly.
[ He nods at Jaskier, indulging miss Feainna with all of the attention that she might desire. She's well-socialized for a bird who doesn't have much of her own kind to flock with. ] Feainna, that's good. She's just the same. You've done a fine job with her — maybe a bit too fine — but a bit of extra meat on her bones won't harm her.
[ As if on queue, Feainna manages to nudge her beak under Cid's jacket and fish out a few of the apple chips he's started keeping to bribe the horses. They're down her gullet before he has any say in it, and Cid pushes her head gently away so that he can get the rest of them himself. ] Already under my clothes with barely more than a hello. She hasn't learned that from you, has she?
A bit too -- [He looks between Cid and the bird. A bit too what? She looks lovely to him, nice and plump like a fine chicken. Though... yes, he can admit he indulges most of her whims, though his runs with her are nearly daily.] Not as bad as Himeka's, I'm sure.
[Feainna is hardly being fed doughnuts.]
Feianna, please! Don't make us both look like voracious greeds. [Though Jaskier laughs.] Possibly. All right, maybe she's not learning all the best habits from me, but that just gives her a bit more personality. She knows what she wants. [He lets his gaze roll lazily over Cid's form, a smile curling his lips.] As do I. Though I'm more inclined to ask for permission.
[He pats her wing as she chirps, satisfied with her prize.] Now, I would be remiss if I didn't offer you a ride on her, if you'd like. Or I can send her home and you can find less feathery, but more handsy, company with me. Unlike this lovely bird, I know the way under a man's clothes -- to his heart, obviously -- usually comes with a drink.
[ Cid chuckles. ] I'd likely be the same in that poor bird's position. Can't blame it for living a bit too well.
[ Himeka's chocobo, that is. It's too bad he's missed the chance for his own apparently, but it's nice enough just to see one, even if it does make him a bit homesick. He feeds her what he's got left of the apple chips and gives her a good rub under the chin. ]
Nothing wrong with knowing what you want. Some would consider it a benefit, in fact. [ He glances at Jaskier and raises an eyebrow, a grin playing at his lips. ] As much as I'd like to take you up on that ride, perhaps I can stop by in the morning sometime instead, take her out for a run for you, if you'd allow it.
[ He gives her one last pat before turning fully to Jaskier, hand resting on his hip. Cid meets his eyes, unwavering. ] I was rather hoping we'd get that drink tonight. Granted, your little lass has taken the last of the treats, so you'll have to make do with what's left...
[Jaskier can blame Himeka, if only because the stories of that bird sound awful and though he's very generous with his pets, he understands there is absolutely a limit. However, he's rather sure Himeka does not even give herself limits when it comes to good cuisine, so...]
You only need come by. She'll be happy for different company, I think.
[She's not much of an attitude as long as company treats her well. Obviously she can already tell Cid's a gentleman, if not a rogue, and perhaps -- well, she may have picked up on that from her owner. He gives his chocobo a kiss on the beak, giving her a pat on the rump. With a final kweh, she heads back home, knowing there's fresh water and food waiting for her.]
I'm sure I'll find treats for myself yet. [He offers an arm.] It's on me tonight. And I know a place a bit more upscale than the Sarstina, if you'll allow myself to say so. So you can have a night on the town.
[ Cid watches her depart before turning back to present company. There's a moment's hesitation before he takes Jaskier's arm, if only because he's so unaccustomed to it. Cid is usually the one offering an arm or paying for drinks. ]
If I'd known I was to be your kept man for the night, I'd have worn something a bit more fitting. [ He can't help a bit of teasing, but he's willing enough to play along. Normally he might insist that Jaskier needn't go to either the trouble or the expense, but the man seems to have a penchant for gift-giving. Cid will just have to find a way to repay him in kind. ] Where are we off to, then?
[He barks a laugh, squeezing his arm tight, hand laying over a forearm. Ooh, that's. That's stiff stuff under there. And, thankfully, he's seen it very well -- and all the little and big scars underneath.
A warrior's body. Or a slave's. He needn't hear much of his story to know that.] Something tells me you've never been a kept man in your life, Cid. Lucky there's plenty of time to try something new.]
A place just up the street from my shop. [It's not exactly a palace buffet, but the tavern Jaskier leads him to is certainly no back-alley beer pit. There's art pieces on nearly every wall, artists and sculptors smoking in circles around thick wooden tables. The smell of fresh pie crust and butter is thicker than the smoke, somehow, which only speaks to how bloody good the pie is.
The slightly heavyset woman behind the bar definitely rolls her eyes when she sees Jaskier, but it seems to be somewhat fond. (Jaskier insists Carmine loves him, but she more or less loves his coin.)] Now, how are we feeling today? I bring certain company here which do have particular palates, so I can admit I've found a taste for the bloodwine imported from Ikorr. If you're not interested in blood, might I suggest the orange ale? It's dark, but has a delightfully fruity note. And please, order as much as you'd like. Carmine here knows how bottomless my coin purse is.
And thank the gods for it, or else I'd never let your bloody arse in here, Gem.] Oh, don't mind her. She thinks I don't buy her enough drinks, when she could drink me under the table. Which, I will warn you, if that's your plan as well, I get horribly handsy with too much drink in me.
[And he'll start fuckin' croonin' love songs at ye, or anyone in a mile radius.] Okay, that's enough of my secrets, thank you, Carmine!
[ Cid chuckles, both in response to Jaskier's words and the way that he squeezes tight. ] You're not wrong.
[ For all that he knows his choices were limited, the fact remains that he's had more of them than most. This, though, is novel. It's not the sort of tavern he'd normally frequent; even the smell of it is decadent. The sort of place where they serve blood wine, apparently.
Cid inclines his head. He can guess at who Jaskier is referring to; Alucard seems to be a friend of his, and he'd be surprised if the man hadn't met Astarion. Even so, he doesn't mention either of them. On the slim chance that Jaskier doesn't know what they are, he'd rather not reveal it on accident. He's spent too many years among Bearers to ease an overabundance of caution, even now.
He listens to Jaskier talk, ever at ease among his people. He seems to command all of the attention in the room, but Cid is hardly surprised. He's generous with his coin, charming, handsome... He's an easy man to like. ]
A bottomless coin purse and you won't buy the lady a drink? [ Cid grins, untangling himself so that he can leaning against the perfectly polished bar. ]
I'll have that orange ale — and something for yourself, love. On him. [ He winks at Jaskier. Carmine snorts, unimpressed but amused. Cid inclines his head at his companion, still leaning against the bar. ] What's this about love songs? You're not falling for me already, are you? You know I'll only break your heart, Jaskier.
[Jaskier does not mention by name either of them for the same reason. He's not so foolish he doesn't understand the reality of their existence can be a bit iffy with those who are not familiar with Ikorr or from the land itself. It is not his secret to give away so freely.
He hops onto his stool and hits Cid against the shoulder in faux outrage.] Now you're already trying to brown-nose her using my coin? Honestly, there's no honour among anyone nowadays.
[As if he cares. Everyone who isn't a pickpocket knows, by now, he's easy with it, and honestly the pickpockets know he has some of the scariest friends around and happily "accidentally" leaves coin and food in the plant shop that mysteriously goes missing, possibly passed to them through Quille's hands.
No honour in orphans, for sure. Except among each other.
Jaskier pulls his coat off and leaves it half-hanging from the counter, giving a snort.] Oh, love, you'll hardly be my first heartbreak. [His traitorous brain provides a helpful memory of Radovid, Prince in his head, and it is with a heavy swallow he pushes it away -- more effortlessly than he would've liked.] I'm far too old for blushing romances. However, I do fall fast. [His smile returns to his face with ease, and he directs the full effect of it to Cid.] Who's to say?
[He pushes the pint over when it lands on the counter, decorated with a twist of orange peel. A detail he'd once seen in Julie's domain and suggested for a bit of fun.] Perhaps I'll be easily impressed.
I'll make it up to you. [ Cid winks at him before bumping his shoulder against Jaskier's. He had figured that the bard wouldn't mind much, considering how generous he is with his coin. Being a bit annoying is just the way he likes to flirt.
The response he gets isn't the one that he expects, though perhaps he should have. He'd known already that Jaskier wore his heart on his sleeve, and everyone who knows him seems to think the same. Cid's expression softens in the face of that brilliant smile. ] There are plenty of strapping young lads and lasses who'll be glad to nurse that tender heart of yours. I can't promise that I'll be around long enough for all that.
[ Even if this place doesn't send him home soon, he's only got a handful of years left. Loathe as he is to bring down the mood, friendship is all he can offer, now or in the future.
Cid lifts the tankard of ale, briefly considering what he ought to do with the orange peel before he decides to leave it on and take a swallow. The drink is smooth and bright, not overly sweet, leaving a warm heat in its wake. ] That's quite good, actually. [ He meets Jaskier's gaze. ] Want a taste?
[Even if Jaskier was truly irritated (he isn't; there's something succulent about any man so bold), he would be mollified by Cid's further flirtations regardless. He smiles, practically purrs as he says:] I expect you will.
[So far, it's going wonderfull. Drink and good company, that doesn't take itself too seriously.
Until he does. Jaskier is not entirely thrown off by it, not anymore; if that is Cid's fate to bear, he can hardly be the one so upset by the reminder of it. Geralt is the same -- a death waiting for him in a world that never wanted him in the first place.
He sets aside Cid's offer of drink (or more) to draw his hands to the other man's cheek, leaning in as if he were to kiss him. Whether it is some secret he keeps to the breast or not, Jaskier is close and quiet when he responds.] Then who shall nurse your tender old heart for what time you have left? [His tone is breathy, and he smiles after, eyes tilting down to Cid's pretty lips.] None of us are here for long enough. We may as well have a good time.
[Now he leans in to actually kiss him, in front of the gods and the Sarstina. He is hardly turned away by the threat of heartache, of loss. He has lived through plenty already.]
[ Cid thinks he ought to receive some sort of commendation for the sheer fact that he doesn't knock his drink over. He's hardly some doe-eyed paramour, but he'd be lying if he said that his old heart hadn't skipped a bloody beat. Cid's expression softens. ] You're too good by far. I see why you've done so well for yourself.
[ The ability to speak so plainly on matters of the heart, without even the faintest flinch or hesitation, is a trait that he can only admire. Hard won, in the sorts of places they've come from.
He leans into the kiss. Cid is neither shy of the audience nor hurried to be on with it, and he takes his time enjoying the warmth of Jaskier's lips, cupping his jaw so he can brush his thumb across the faint roughness of his cheek. He even smells nice, like wood and liquor.
Cid pulls away from the kiss only to lean in and speak close to Jaskier's ear. ] Let's take our good time somewhere a bit more private, eh? Can't have you out here preforming for free.
[The taste of the orange-tinged liquor tastes even better from another's lips, accompanied by the buzzing sensation of short hairs against his palm. Cid would've held the attention of anyone with eyes on the Continent; for once in his long experience in Abraxas, it feels as if he's romancing a man closer to his own sphere than to others.
He brushes a thumb across Cid's lips once there is space to breathe again.
The secret has always been sincerity. Whether Cid sees a performance or not is irrelevant; Jaskier means everything he's ever said. He is no flatterer; he does not romance for the sake of it. In Cid, he sees a man holding tragedy in his hands but still building monuments despite it. Someone who does not allow himself to idle.
Speaking of the lack of idling --]
If you can manage to pull yourself from your drink. [His skin prickles pleasantly, his smile warm. Performing, is it? Suppose it all falls into its own sort of performance.] Do you have a room, or shall you use more of my coin to acquire us one?
[ Teasing as his remarks might be, Cid can't find it in himself to believe that this is a performance. Perhaps he's just such a fool, but Jaskier has always seemed to be a man with too little of his heart to hide, and this is no exception. Cid supposes that he has no choice, then, but to treat it as tenderly as he can.
He moves his hand to capture Jaskier's wrist, though he's careful to telegraph the movement before he curls his fingers around it. ]
It's a good drink. [ He replies with a warm chuckle before turning to press a light kiss to Jaskier's palm. ] I'm deep enough in your debt already. Let's get up to mine, and I'll see about paying it off, eh?
[ He untangles himself then, though he'd admit that it's more of an effort than he might expect, he's not quite shameless enough to get too handsy in a crowded tavern. He releases Jaskier, but rests a hand on the small of his back as they make their way up the stairs.
The room itself is average, neatly kept. He hasn't done much in the way of decorating, but there are touches here and there; a little mint garden on the window sill, a few gifted trinkets on the shelves, and a prototype airship model tucked into the corner of his desk.
Cid himself is hardly paying attention to any of that. His gaze is still on Jaskier, who he'd be more than happy to press right up against the wall if Jaskier will let him get away with it. ] Where were we again? I've forgotten already.
There's always plenty of opportunity to end up further on my tab after.
[What's better than more drink? Jaskier doesn't pull from his grasp, stealing a kiss on a roughened cheek before they leave the bar behind (and a pouch of Jaskier's coin.) If anyone sees them going upstairs together, it clearly doesn't make a mark; anyway who is even half a regular at the Sarstina has seen a similar sight a hundred times before.
Jaskier isn't only famous for his singing, after all.
He takes in the room quickly enough; if Cid's mint plants grow an extra inch seemingly out of nowhere, then it clearly has nothing to do with him. It's more unintentional than he means it, especially as distracted as he is.
Jaskier makes his invitation quite obvious when he grabs Cid by the lapels and pulls him in so the bard is trapped against the wall. Or, in this case, the back of the door. He hikes a leg up, locking an ankle behind Cid's.] I don't think you're near old enough to be losing your memory so easily. [He pulls him down, a kiss with much more tongue and a teasing pull of Cid's lower lip with his teeth.] I believe I was about to undress you. Perhaps with a bit of haste.
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The bard himself has a colorful enough wardrobe that he easily stands out from a crowd, but for once he's been upstaged by the bright yellow feathers of his mount. ]
Bloody hell, Jaskier. [ He'd mentioned that he had a chocobo, but Cid had yet to see it for himself until this very moment. He jogs the last few steps and stops before her, waiting until she lowers her head before he reaches for it to give her a gentle scratch. Even the smell that people often complained of fills him with an odd pang of nostalgia for home. ] Been eating well, have you? Taking advantage of our friends good graces?
[ Aside from being a bit chubby, she seems well cared for. He turns back to Jaskier with a grin. ] You've got quite the affinity for birds. What's her name?
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[There's not a chance in hell he's letting a bird, even his giant, beloved bird, to get in the way of... meddlings.
But he can't say he isn't glad to have brought her, if only to see Cid's face light up. That nostalgic then, is she? So he hadn't been lying. Not there there was a reason to do so, it's only... perhaps she'll be glad to meet someone who knows her kind, too. As if she recognizes being admired (or having learned from her caretaker), the bird preens, her pretty golden feathers fluffing up with a chirrup. Into his hands her head goes, bumping into Cid's body.]
I'm doing my best with what I've been told. I'm afraid such glorious creatures have no mirror on my sphere. [But he's quite proud of her. She loves her runs, her gysahl greens (or the closet approximation Jaskier can make), and going to visit the wild birds still out in the Badlands.
Jaskier pats her side, just under her wing where she likes to be scratched. An affinity for birds -- so he does.] Feainna. Ciri named her. It means "sunny" in the Elder tongue, the elven language from my world. [Feainna begins to sniff about Cid's body, as if looking for secret treats. When she meets new people, there's often treats.] Is she much like the ones from your home?
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[ He nods at Jaskier, indulging miss Feainna with all of the attention that she might desire. She's well-socialized for a bird who doesn't have much of her own kind to flock with. ] Feainna, that's good. She's just the same. You've done a fine job with her — maybe a bit too fine — but a bit of extra meat on her bones won't harm her.
[ As if on queue, Feainna manages to nudge her beak under Cid's jacket and fish out a few of the apple chips he's started keeping to bribe the horses. They're down her gullet before he has any say in it, and Cid pushes her head gently away so that he can get the rest of them himself. ] Already under my clothes with barely more than a hello. She hasn't learned that from you, has she?
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[Feainna is hardly being fed doughnuts.]
Feianna, please! Don't make us both look like voracious greeds. [Though Jaskier laughs.] Possibly. All right, maybe she's not learning all the best habits from me, but that just gives her a bit more personality. She knows what she wants. [He lets his gaze roll lazily over Cid's form, a smile curling his lips.] As do I. Though I'm more inclined to ask for permission.
[He pats her wing as she chirps, satisfied with her prize.] Now, I would be remiss if I didn't offer you a ride on her, if you'd like. Or I can send her home and you can find less feathery, but more handsy, company with me. Unlike this lovely bird, I know the way under a man's clothes -- to his heart, obviously -- usually comes with a drink.
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[ Himeka's chocobo, that is. It's too bad he's missed the chance for his own apparently, but it's nice enough just to see one, even if it does make him a bit homesick. He feeds her what he's got left of the apple chips and gives her a good rub under the chin. ]
Nothing wrong with knowing what you want. Some would consider it a benefit, in fact. [ He glances at Jaskier and raises an eyebrow, a grin playing at his lips. ] As much as I'd like to take you up on that ride, perhaps I can stop by in the morning sometime instead, take her out for a run for you, if you'd allow it.
[ He gives her one last pat before turning fully to Jaskier, hand resting on his hip. Cid meets his eyes, unwavering. ] I was rather hoping we'd get that drink tonight. Granted, your little lass has taken the last of the treats, so you'll have to make do with what's left...
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You only need come by. She'll be happy for different company, I think.
[She's not much of an attitude as long as company treats her well. Obviously she can already tell Cid's a gentleman, if not a rogue, and perhaps -- well, she may have picked up on that from her owner. He gives his chocobo a kiss on the beak, giving her a pat on the rump. With a final kweh, she heads back home, knowing there's fresh water and food waiting for her.]
I'm sure I'll find treats for myself yet. [He offers an arm.] It's on me tonight. And I know a place a bit more upscale than the Sarstina, if you'll allow myself to say so. So you can have a night on the town.
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[ Cid watches her depart before turning back to present company. There's a moment's hesitation before he takes Jaskier's arm, if only because he's so unaccustomed to it. Cid is usually the one offering an arm or paying for drinks. ]
If I'd known I was to be your kept man for the night, I'd have worn something a bit more fitting. [ He can't help a bit of teasing, but he's willing enough to play along. Normally he might insist that Jaskier needn't go to either the trouble or the expense, but the man seems to have a penchant for gift-giving. Cid will just have to find a way to repay him in kind. ] Where are we off to, then?
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A warrior's body. Or a slave's. He needn't hear much of his story to know that.] Something tells me you've never been a kept man in your life, Cid. Lucky there's plenty of time to try something new.]
A place just up the street from my shop. [It's not exactly a palace buffet, but the tavern Jaskier leads him to is certainly no back-alley beer pit. There's art pieces on nearly every wall, artists and sculptors smoking in circles around thick wooden tables. The smell of fresh pie crust and butter is thicker than the smoke, somehow, which only speaks to how bloody good the pie is.
The slightly heavyset woman behind the bar definitely rolls her eyes when she sees Jaskier, but it seems to be somewhat fond. (Jaskier insists Carmine loves him, but she more or less loves his coin.)] Now, how are we feeling today? I bring certain company here which do have particular palates, so I can admit I've found a taste for the bloodwine imported from Ikorr. If you're not interested in blood, might I suggest the orange ale? It's dark, but has a delightfully fruity note. And please, order as much as you'd like. Carmine here knows how bottomless my coin purse is.
And thank the gods for it, or else I'd never let your bloody arse in here, Gem.] Oh, don't mind her. She thinks I don't buy her enough drinks, when she could drink me under the table. Which, I will warn you, if that's your plan as well, I get horribly handsy with too much drink in me.
[And he'll start fuckin' croonin' love songs at ye, or anyone in a mile radius.] Okay, that's enough of my secrets, thank you, Carmine!
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[ For all that he knows his choices were limited, the fact remains that he's had more of them than most. This, though, is novel. It's not the sort of tavern he'd normally frequent; even the smell of it is decadent. The sort of place where they serve blood wine, apparently.
Cid inclines his head. He can guess at who Jaskier is referring to; Alucard seems to be a friend of his, and he'd be surprised if the man hadn't met Astarion. Even so, he doesn't mention either of them. On the slim chance that Jaskier doesn't know what they are, he'd rather not reveal it on accident. He's spent too many years among Bearers to ease an overabundance of caution, even now.
He listens to Jaskier talk, ever at ease among his people. He seems to command all of the attention in the room, but Cid is hardly surprised. He's generous with his coin, charming, handsome... He's an easy man to like. ]
A bottomless coin purse and you won't buy the lady a drink? [ Cid grins, untangling himself so that he can leaning against the perfectly polished bar. ]
I'll have that orange ale — and something for yourself, love. On him. [ He winks at Jaskier. Carmine snorts, unimpressed but amused. Cid inclines his head at his companion, still leaning against the bar. ] What's this about love songs? You're not falling for me already, are you? You know I'll only break your heart, Jaskier.
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He hops onto his stool and hits Cid against the shoulder in faux outrage.] Now you're already trying to brown-nose her using my coin? Honestly, there's no honour among anyone nowadays.
[As if he cares. Everyone who isn't a pickpocket knows, by now, he's easy with it, and honestly the pickpockets know he has some of the scariest friends around and happily "accidentally" leaves coin and food in the plant shop that mysteriously goes missing, possibly passed to them through Quille's hands.
No honour in orphans, for sure. Except among each other.
Jaskier pulls his coat off and leaves it half-hanging from the counter, giving a snort.] Oh, love, you'll hardly be my first heartbreak. [His traitorous brain provides a helpful memory of Radovid, Prince in his head, and it is with a heavy swallow he pushes it away -- more effortlessly than he would've liked.] I'm far too old for blushing romances. However, I do fall fast. [His smile returns to his face with ease, and he directs the full effect of it to Cid.] Who's to say?
[He pushes the pint over when it lands on the counter, decorated with a twist of orange peel. A detail he'd once seen in Julie's domain and suggested for a bit of fun.] Perhaps I'll be easily impressed.
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The response he gets isn't the one that he expects, though perhaps he should have. He'd known already that Jaskier wore his heart on his sleeve, and everyone who knows him seems to think the same. Cid's expression softens in the face of that brilliant smile. ] There are plenty of strapping young lads and lasses who'll be glad to nurse that tender heart of yours. I can't promise that I'll be around long enough for all that.
[ Even if this place doesn't send him home soon, he's only got a handful of years left. Loathe as he is to bring down the mood, friendship is all he can offer, now or in the future.
Cid lifts the tankard of ale, briefly considering what he ought to do with the orange peel before he decides to leave it on and take a swallow. The drink is smooth and bright, not overly sweet, leaving a warm heat in its wake. ] That's quite good, actually. [ He meets Jaskier's gaze. ] Want a taste?
[ He's definitely not talking about the ale. ]
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[So far, it's going wonderfull. Drink and good company, that doesn't take itself too seriously.
Until he does. Jaskier is not entirely thrown off by it, not anymore; if that is Cid's fate to bear, he can hardly be the one so upset by the reminder of it. Geralt is the same -- a death waiting for him in a world that never wanted him in the first place.
He sets aside Cid's offer of drink (or more) to draw his hands to the other man's cheek, leaning in as if he were to kiss him. Whether it is some secret he keeps to the breast or not, Jaskier is close and quiet when he responds.] Then who shall nurse your tender old heart for what time you have left? [His tone is breathy, and he smiles after, eyes tilting down to Cid's pretty lips.] None of us are here for long enough. We may as well have a good time.
[Now he leans in to actually kiss him, in front of the gods and the Sarstina. He is hardly turned away by the threat of heartache, of loss. He has lived through plenty already.]
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[ The ability to speak so plainly on matters of the heart, without even the faintest flinch or hesitation, is a trait that he can only admire. Hard won, in the sorts of places they've come from.
He leans into the kiss. Cid is neither shy of the audience nor hurried to be on with it, and he takes his time enjoying the warmth of Jaskier's lips, cupping his jaw so he can brush his thumb across the faint roughness of his cheek. He even smells nice, like wood and liquor.
Cid pulls away from the kiss only to lean in and speak close to Jaskier's ear. ] Let's take our good time somewhere a bit more private, eh? Can't have you out here preforming for free.
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He brushes a thumb across Cid's lips once there is space to breathe again.
The secret has always been sincerity. Whether Cid sees a performance or not is irrelevant; Jaskier means everything he's ever said. He is no flatterer; he does not romance for the sake of it. In Cid, he sees a man holding tragedy in his hands but still building monuments despite it. Someone who does not allow himself to idle.
Speaking of the lack of idling --]
If you can manage to pull yourself from your drink. [His skin prickles pleasantly, his smile warm. Performing, is it? Suppose it all falls into its own sort of performance.] Do you have a room, or shall you use more of my coin to acquire us one?
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He moves his hand to capture Jaskier's wrist, though he's careful to telegraph the movement before he curls his fingers around it. ]
It's a good drink. [ He replies with a warm chuckle before turning to press a light kiss to Jaskier's palm. ] I'm deep enough in your debt already. Let's get up to mine, and I'll see about paying it off, eh?
[ He untangles himself then, though he'd admit that it's more of an effort than he might expect, he's not quite shameless enough to get too handsy in a crowded tavern. He releases Jaskier, but rests a hand on the small of his back as they make their way up the stairs.
The room itself is average, neatly kept. He hasn't done much in the way of decorating, but there are touches here and there; a little mint garden on the window sill, a few gifted trinkets on the shelves, and a prototype airship model tucked into the corner of his desk.
Cid himself is hardly paying attention to any of that. His gaze is still on Jaskier, who he'd be more than happy to press right up against the wall if Jaskier will let him get away with it. ] Where were we again? I've forgotten already.
can start fading to black/wrap here!
[What's better than more drink? Jaskier doesn't pull from his grasp, stealing a kiss on a roughened cheek before they leave the bar behind (and a pouch of Jaskier's coin.) If anyone sees them going upstairs together, it clearly doesn't make a mark; anyway who is even half a regular at the Sarstina has seen a similar sight a hundred times before.
Jaskier isn't only famous for his singing, after all.
He takes in the room quickly enough; if Cid's mint plants grow an extra inch seemingly out of nowhere, then it clearly has nothing to do with him. It's more unintentional than he means it, especially as distracted as he is.
Jaskier makes his invitation quite obvious when he grabs Cid by the lapels and pulls him in so the bard is trapped against the wall. Or, in this case, the back of the door. He hikes a leg up, locking an ankle behind Cid's.] I don't think you're near old enough to be losing your memory so easily. [He pulls him down, a kiss with much more tongue and a teasing pull of Cid's lower lip with his teeth.] I believe I was about to undress you. Perhaps with a bit of haste.