"A cape!" he exclaims as he laughs. "Not allowed to call me dramatic, then!" The question makes him shrug. "I can't, but I bet a quick call to Yennefer can."
Actually, he isn't sure about that either; he just wants to keep up the bit.
He nods while putting his notebook away. "A few. It's weird to think I'll sing them for the first time here instead of Elftown or Rainbow Road, but we agree it'd be a good idea to test them with 'the general public', so to speak."
“It’s for the theater and the opera,” Midge clarifies. “He loves that thing though. Ask him about it.” The idea of Abe and Jaskier bonding over a cape is ridiculous, but it just might work.
She pulls on her dress, then stands in front of Jaskier with her back to him, a silent request for him to help with the zipper. “It is. See what kind of response you get. Sorry that your test group is my family.”
"I don't think that's a good idea." Talking about clothes may invite Abe to comment on Jaskier's style, and that can't end well.
Calloused fingers caress her back before they finally help her with the zipper. "Apology accepted," he teases. "It's not ideal, but it's necessary. If it goes well, we may get more gig parties. And that means music to make the guests dance."
He laughs as he sits on the edge of the bed, watching her beauty routine. He's jealous of being able to wear makeup so freely, and he knows those thoughts are kinda fucked up considering what women must do to stay pretty.
"I'll take what I can to get gigs going, but I wish they'd dance because the music is good, not because of the alcohol." A little dramatic sigh. "It's almost like being at taverns again."
"There are all kinds of taverns. Some of them were like The Gaslight, especially if they were part of an inn, and I greatly enjoyed those. I could jump on the tables and keep everyone's attention on me while Geralt brooded in a corner." He smiles at the memories.
"But then you have your shitholes. And the average tavern by the road is definitely a shithole. You have those in New York, you have to know what I'm talking about." Does she? He knows she used to be a sheltered housewife, but surely the gigs have shown her the worst New York has to offer. "Dark, smoky, just a bunch of drunk men at the bar pinching the waitress' arse."
"And I agree with Susie," he replies as he also nods. "Geralt and I didn't exactly have options. You do." He chuckles when he realizes something. "Although I guess that's kind of funny considering you're currently at a strip club. Mayhaps I should join you one day and sing The Witcher's Third Sword."
Susie doesn’t love The Wolford, but she understands that it’s a regular gig for Midge and that Midge needs regular money coming in. It’s working out for now.
She pauses in putting on her mascara and furrows her brow. “Is that a dirty song?” she asks.
Sorry, laughing pretty hard again. Call it revenge for Jaskier not getting the bush joke.
"Witchers have two swords, dear. This is a metaphorical song about the hidden third one." He winks at her in the mirror - yeah, it's a song about the witcher's dick. "Whores charged witchers extra out of fear and bigotry. So I wrote a little something for the brothels."
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Actually, he isn't sure about that either; he just wants to keep up the bit.
He nods while putting his notebook away. "A few. It's weird to think I'll sing them for the first time here instead of Elftown or Rainbow Road, but we agree it'd be a good idea to test them with 'the general public', so to speak."
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She pulls on her dress, then stands in front of Jaskier with her back to him, a silent request for him to help with the zipper. “It is. See what kind of response you get. Sorry that your test group is my family.”
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Calloused fingers caress her back before they finally help her with the zipper. "Apology accepted," he teases. "It's not ideal, but it's necessary. If it goes well, we may get more gig parties. And that means music to make the guests dance."
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Jaskier can’t look at her skin without touching it, which brings a smile to Midge’s face. “Oh they’ll dance. There’s an open bar.”
With her dress zipped up, Midge sits down in front of the mirror to put on her makeup and fix her hair.
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"I'll take what I can to get gigs going, but I wish they'd dance because the music is good, not because of the alcohol." A little dramatic sigh. "It's almost like being at taverns again."
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"There are all kinds of taverns. Some of them were like The Gaslight, especially if they were part of an inn, and I greatly enjoyed those. I could jump on the tables and keep everyone's attention on me while Geralt brooded in a corner." He smiles at the memories.
"But then you have your shitholes. And the average tavern by the road is definitely a shithole. You have those in New York, you have to know what I'm talking about." Does she? He knows she used to be a sheltered housewife, but surely the gigs have shown her the worst New York has to offer. "Dark, smoky, just a bunch of drunk men at the bar pinching the waitress' arse."
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Places where men are just there to drink and don’t care about the show. Susie says Midge deserves better than that, and she’s right.
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He wrote that one for the brothels, oops.
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She pauses in putting on her mascara and furrows her brow. “Is that a dirty song?” she asks.
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"Witchers have two swords, dear. This is a metaphorical song about the hidden third one." He winks at her in the mirror - yeah, it's a song about the witcher's dick. "Whores charged witchers extra out of fear and bigotry. So I wrote a little something for the brothels."