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    Summary

    Geralt leans his weight against Roach - he’ll be able to move faster in case of danger if he conserves his strength until the last possible second - and watches Jaskier settle by the stall door, pulling the hem of the jerkin over the dagger at his hip so that it's mostly concealed. Geralt doesn’t know how quickly he’ll be able to draw it if he needs it, and he’s never seen Jaskier handle any kind of fighting weapon before. This is a bad idea, fuck -

    - but the guards are here. They’ve assumed the light was left by some stablehand, Geralt can hear them grumbling about it, and if there was enough time and space for another person to hide, he would have dragged Jaskier to it, no matter his protests. But there isn’t, and he can do nothing but watch as the stall door swings open, the guards stop snd blink, and Jaskier meets them with his most winning smile.

    “Evening, gentlemen,” he says.

    Jaskier frees himself and Geralt from captivity, and in the wake of their moonlit flight, Geralt begins to hope that his love for Jaskier may not be entirely one sided.

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