doesntsing | open post

She’s ready to scream and claw at him if he tries anything. This is not the night. Fortunately, it seems like he’s content to flirt with her from eight feet away.

Very dramatic. And he’s winking at her. Midge furrows her brow. “You have three songs? You mean you wrote them? How long have you been in here?” Maybe they put her in this cell because it’s the long term one and they won’t let Susie bail her out. Is she going to be stuck here for weeks?

She sighs, trying to push down her anxiety. “Usually it’s because I say something on stage that someone doesn’t like and they call the cops on me, despite the fact that I have a First Amendment right to free speech.” The last bit is directed to the officer near the holding cell, who is doing a spectacular job of ignoring her. “Tonight, they raided the club I was working at and I got rounded up, despite not working.”

A beat. “I mean, I was working. I just wasn’t doing what the other girls were doing.”

Another beat. “I don’t mean they were working. There’s no sex. None of it is strictly illegal. People just can’t mind their own business.”

Jaskier wrinkles his nose at the idea that he's been here long enough to write three songs about these pigs. Although part of him wonders if one day, Geralt or Yennefer will let him spend the night in jail just to teach him a lesson. He wouldn't put it past them.

"Yes, I wrote them, but not here! I meant from previous 'rodeos'." He's still not sure what a rodeo actually is, but he got the twist of the metaphor. "Law enforcement is the same everywhere." Wanting to both prove himself and impress her, he glances at the guard and starts singing. "♫ You think you're a god, please! You're a codpiece, now suck this D--" He keeps the D note for a few seconds in perfect pitch before ending it with "-Natural. ♫"

"Don't make me muzzle you, bard."

Jaskier rolls his eyes, the strong sarcasm returning. "Perfect service as usual."

His body language completely changes when the lovely lady touches on subjects dear to Jaskier's heart: the stage, opening your mouth to say too much against society's expectations, and censorship. His whole body tenses as he frowns.

"You're a performer?"

Things get worse as the description continues. 'Working girls' usually mean prostitution, but this lady clarifies there's no sex actually happening. The way she vaguely talks about the place implies something dirty, though. A raid. Working girls. But this one doesn't work, not 'like that'...

Then it hits him. He remembers some of the girls he slept with telling him about a lovely comedian who supports them instead of judging them. Someone who brings them some laughter before having to deal with the creeps in the crowd.

"Motherfucker-- Did they raid The Wolford?" Anger clear in his face and the way he stomps, Jaskier rushes to the bars and grabs them with white knuckles as he calls the names of a few of the girls he knows. He can hear some female voices responding, but he can't understand what they're saying. It seems they're in the last cells at the end of the corridor. Fuck.

He turns to his cellmate with worry written in his blue eyes. "Are they okay? Are you okay?"

Midge raises her eyebrows when he starts to sing, but a little smile of amusement plays at her lips. He has a nice voice and his lyrics are, admittedly, funny. Of course, the officer with no sense of humor doesn’t find it amusing.

“You’re a bard?” she asks. “I didn’t think we had bards anymore.” Kind of old-fashioned, but not unheard of anymore, at least when it comes to singing about the feats of the magical folks.

His outrage is surprising at first, but then Midge has a revelation. “Oh, now I recognize you,” she says. “I’ve seen you around. Backstage.” If he’s seen one of her sets during the show, he didn’t recognize her here. “I think we’re all okay. Just annoyed.” Maybe she’s speaking for herself.

“Why are you here?” He clearly wasn’t at the club tonight if he didn’t know about the raid.

"And you're the comedian." His voice is softer this time, less flirty. Just a fellow artist who understands what she's going through and wants to connect. "The girls spoke highly of you."

He sighs with relief when he hears that everyone is fine, but he can't help staring at the corridor for a few seconds. Geralt better get here fast, because Jaskier won't be the only one he'll be bailing out tonight. Yennefer has sold enough potions and charms, he thinks, to cover the money needed for all the girls. And if not, well... he'll find a way.

"Allow me to start over." He bows for her with all the flourish of someone who has sung at many courts. "Jaskier of Oxenfurt. Bard, musician, poet, chronicler - and not from this world." Which explains why he is a bard in a world that doesn't have many.

If she works at The Wolford and has been censored for talking too much, he thinks she won't be a very judgmental person and won't mind the otherworlders. But one can never know for certain, so he waits a second to be sure she's fine with this before continuing.

"As for why I am here..." A shrug. "Heckler didn't like my song. I told him exactly where he could insert his opinion."

That's a huge simplification of what actually happened but hey, he has a silver tongue for a reason.

It’s actually not that surprising to her when Jaskier tells her he’s an Otherworlder. Ever since the magician-scientists here discovered that they could open up portals to other worlds during the war, people have been arriving randomly every now and then. They still can’t control it, and people here still can’t get one to stay open long enough for them to travel to different worlds. It’s a one way trip to Earth, basically. She hopes this guy is happy here, because there’s no going back, at least not right now.

Of course, people and creatures arriving from other worlds with no regulation is a huge national security risk. Usually, Otherworlders are detained and questioned, if they’re caught. Midge guesses that this guy and whoever came with him must have passed inspection, otherwise he might not be so open with her about him being an Otherworlder.

Personally, she’s fine with Otherworlders being here, as long as they’re living their lives and not trying to kill people or take over.

“Midge Maisel. Of the Upper West Side,” she replies. “Nice to meet you. Oh, I’ve done that before.”

Hecklers are part of the gig. Midge has to be able to handle them.

“I guess you haven’t seen my part of the show?” she asks. “Most men are just waiting for me to get off stage anyway.”

His brain immediately stops at the surname, but then he internally kicks himself - everyone has surnames here, no matter their social status. It was quite a shock to learn of this when he arrived, one of the many things he's had to get used to. He's proud of himself for already mentally doing the correction after a few months.

"Lady Midge. A pleasure." Since it seems they're on friendly grounds now, he dares to grab her hand to kiss it. Then he sits on the same bench as her, but makes sure to leave some room between them. Friendly grounds, sure, but he isn't pushing too far yet. Can't have her getting uncomfortable.

He laughs at her comment, but he also shakes his head. Audiences can be so frustrating and ungrateful. Fuckers.

"Many a man don't understand that beauty comes in all forms." He leans back against the wall, stretching his legs in the process. "To be fair, I haven't watched the girls 'dance' either," he adds while gesturing the quotation marks. "There's a reason you've seen me backstage: I've been hunting for work. The prosperous career I had at home doesn't exist here, not yet anyway. It's like I'm eighteen again, hunting for a stage that will have me."

Midge raises a quizzical eyebrow at him when he calls her ‘Lady Midge’. She allows him to kiss her hand and only betrays a little smirk at her amusement. He’s laying it on really thick, but it’s kind of endearing. Maybe women really respond to this kind of thing where he comes from.

Of course he sits down next to her. Was that whole thing an elaborate show to conveniently move to her side of the cell? Jaskier keeps out of her personal space though, which she appreciates. He’s not unattractive, but they’re in probably the least sexy place imaginable.

“They’re actually really good,” Midge tells him. “Some of them can do some really incredible stuff. They just happen to do it with their tops off.” That’s the sticking point for many a conservative. “I know the feeling. I’ve been doing this for about two years and it still feels like an uphill battle sometimes.”

He laughs again, this time at her comment about the tops. When he realizes how many little amusing comments she's thrown so far, he regrets not having watched her act before. If this is her talking casually, she must be a blast on the stage.

"Oh, they're definitely very talented," he responds with just enough innuendo to make it sound teasing but not crossing the line into pushing too far. Midge hasn't moved away from him or cleaned her hand, so it's a good start. Jaskier isn't sure how much the girls have talked about the -ahem- extracurricular activities they do with him, so better keep it at that.

He nods at the mention of a battle, eyes staring at the ceiling as he remembers the early days of camping with a grumpy witcher who only said one word every four hours. "A battle against other artists, the audience, stage owners, the critics, the law, society's expectations, creativity, and even yourself. Not exactly a fair fight, now is it?"

When he looks down again, he can't help staring at her for a few seconds, curiosity written in his eyes. "It's brave of you to stick to The Wolford, however. Many a person would be afraid of what it could do to their reputation. I respect that."

She picks up what he’s putting down about their talent. Midge hasn’t asked any of the girls about him, but she recalls them being friendly with him and happy to see him. It’s not like he forced himself upon them or anything like that. He would have been banned from the club if that were the case.

Now her curiosity is piqued. She’s going to ask around about him.

“Sounds familiar.” Midge tucks her legs underneath her and leans back against the wall. She’s calmed down now and she’s feeling more comfortable.

Her gaze turns to meet his and she finds that his blue eyes are very penetrating. “Well, I’ll be honest with you. It’s a job. A regular one. I know I have a reliable place to test out my material several nights a week.” Midge shrugs. “I guess it can’t really ruin my reputation if I don’t have much of one yet. Besides, they know I don’t hold back with what I say.”

"And I respect that too." He puts a hand on his chest and raises his voice a little, obviously teasing with extra dramatics. "A woman with opinions! Oh, the slander! The scandal!"

He needs to introduce this lady to Yennefer, he realizes. Watch them be feisty at bigoted men together would be very entertaining. Maybe Ciri too, she needs more influences like this in her life. Unlike her adoptive parents, Midge actually expresses emotions and has a sense of humor. Kinda low bar, ain't it?

His eyes meet hers and he offers a little smile, making sure he shows how much he's enjoying this conversation.

"I shall be honest as well, then. I used to hold back some stuff. Respect doesn't make history, I told my best friend." Gosh, when was that? A little over two decades ago. Probably a blink in Geralt's centennial eyes. "And it did open doors. But here is the thing, my lady - even with a growing reputation, with many a court under my lovely peacock wings... I still couldn't say what I wanted. So fuck that shit."

After glancing at the guard again, he sings a little from another one of his prison songs. "♫ Sometimes it takes a prison cell, the tricks and tales that traitors tell, to help you see that freedom is all you've got. ♫"

“It’s a great big scandal if you ask some people,” she says. Jaskier is a natural performer. Perhaps a tad overdramatic, but she imagines that plays well on stage. Does he give everyone the sort of attention that he’s giving her right now? It’s almost seductive. Midge doesn’t want to get sucked in.

His swear-filled declaration and bursting into song manage to earn him a genuine smile from her.

“You know,” she says, her tone playful. “It might be your clothes.”

And what a beautiful smile it is! Jaskier smiles to himself as well, proud of getting such a reaction from her. But his face immediately transforms when she comments on his clothes. The gasp is definitely overdramatic, but also real.

"My clothes!" The hand returns to his chest - what a scandal indeed. "To think I complimented yours the second you walked in! I'm hurt, my lady. Hurt, I say!" Alright, that last part is exaggerated. But he's gonna pout anyway.

“Don’t get me wrong,” she continues. “They’re very nice.” All brocade and silk. “But you’ve probably noticed that people don’t really dress like that here. You’re about 400 years out of fashion.”

Midge shrugs. “I’m not saying that you look bad, but it’s very obvious that you’re an Otherworlder, and some people are very biased against Otherworlders.”

What started as a teasing joke has turned into actual advice. Blending in a bit more might help his burgeoning career.

She likes how he looks, and that definitely counts as a triumph. But his inner glee is short-lived - Jaskier wrinkles his nose when Midge says he's out of fashion. If this was home, he'd take out the dramatics again - he's always on top of the trends. Sometimes he even starts the trends! In this context, however...

"They work when I'm doing the bardic act," he tries to justify, but he knows it's a lost battle. A defeated sigh escapes his lips. "I hate this. I'm supposed to understand fashion!" He throws his hands in the air in frustration. "There's been so much to catch up on since we've arrived. I picked up new instruments and I've been studying the local music- have you heard all the different music genres they have here? It's absolutely insane!"

To be fair, he loves the variety of art that populates this world. It's refreshing, but also overwhelming. Another thing that is making him feel like a teenager again.

Jaskier gives Midge a new look over, this time less flirty and more admiring the fabrics. "You do understand fashion. Would you consider advising this humble bard? I'm willing to pay for your service."

“The closest thing we have to a bard is Bob Dylan*,” she tells him. “You should listen to one of his records.”

Midge can sympathize with Jaskier. If she was sent to a world where the fashion was very different from what she was used to, it would be frustrating for her too.

Midge smooths down her dress when he compliments her, then gives a short laugh. “I don’t think there’s anything humble about you.”

Standing up, she hums in her throat and gives his body a once over under the guise of determining if he’s able to be helped or not. Really, she’s checking him out just a little. He’s quite tall, much taller than her, which she has no problem with. His build is nice. The hair is a bit long for her usual taste, but the stubble actually looks good on him. His eyes are probably his best feature, a clear light blue. She sneaks a look at his hands too. Hands are important on a man. His are calloused, probably from playing string instruments, but the fingers taper nicely.

“Alright,” Midge says finally, “I’ll help you.”

She doesn’t need to be paid for it, but she’s not going to tell him that yet.

[ *It’s slightly too early for Dylan but we do what we want anyway. ]

Edited 2025-06-15 19:55 (UTC)

"Bob Dylan..." he repeats as he gets lost in thought for a second. "I think I heard his songs. I'm still learning what belongs to whom. There was this bloke- Presley, was it? I like him." He likes how he shakes his hips, he means. Jaskier tries to imitate Elvis' voice when he sing-songs- "You come along with me and put your mind at ease, hey~"

She isn't the first one to call him out for the whole 'humble bard' bit, so he just smiles as innocently as he can. That smile turns into a grin when he realizes what she's doing. Always hungry for attention, Jaskier stands up and takes off his long jacket before moving in a circle to show off. His sleeves are puffy and both his chemise and his vest are decorated with flowers. There are rings on his fingers and the chain around his neck has a small tuning fork. Those lovely cornflower blues of his have some kohl on them, the only make-up he's ever dared to wear back in his world.

He's tempted to ask like what you see?, but for once he keeps it to himself - he's seriously asking for her help here, the flirting can return later. When she agrees to help, he beams with the brightest smile and bows with a hand over his heart.

"My greatest gratitude--"

Before he can say more, the officer hits the bars with his baton before opening the cell. "Bard! You're out." And he sounds quite relieved about it.

Mischievous grin back in place, Jaskier grabs his jacket before winking at Midge. "I'll be right back." A strange thing to say while being bailed out. Ominous, if you will.

A few minutes later, Midge and the rest of the girls are being bailed out, too. Outside, they'll find Jaskier chatting with Geralt, and both of them are leaning against the witcher's motorcycle.

When she finds herself released a few minutes after Jaskier leaves, Midge realizes what he meant when he said he’d be right back. It was extremely kind of him to pay bail for her and the rest of the girls. She will pay him back, of course.

Midge grabs her things from booking and manages to leave the precinct without saying something that would get her re-arrested. When she catches sight of Jaskier and the other man with him, she nearly stops in her tracks.

The other man is even taller than Jaskier with a broad chest, cheekbones to die for, and long silver-white hair. Forget what she said earlier about preferring men with short hair. She obviously didn’t know what she was talking about.

Maybe the other girls have met this guy before, because they’re not swarming him. Maybe they all went blind in jail. Either way, Midge is not going to let an opportunity pass her by. She saunters up to Jaskier and his handsome friend, a grin on her face.

“Is this the hero we have to thank for bailing us out?” she asks sweetly. Up close, Midge can see that his eyes are an almost unearthly golden color. It only adds to his mystique.

The girls have heard enough stories from Jaskier to know about Geralt... but that also means they heard about Yennefer, so they know better than to try anything. They thank Jaskier with a kiss on the cheek and promise to see him around before they leave.

Seeing women getting their underwear wet over Geralt has been happening a lot in this world and is still quite a novelty. It wasn't impossible back home, but the few times it happened, they would change their minds when they realized that Geralt was a witcher. Jaskier working on his reputation did help a bit, and for years, he tried getting dates for his friend too. He always wanted Geralt to be happy, even if it wasn't with him.

No, women falling from Geralt has never bothered him. Jaskier encouraged it even (well, except for Yennefer, but that's a different story). How could he blame them when he felt the same? However, this is the first time that said woman has been on Jaskier's radar first. Love triangles among best friends are as old as humanity itself, so he guesses that this happening for the first time in a little over two decades of friendship is a small mercy.

Midge isn't being subtle, but if there was any doubt, Geralt's nose does that thing where it smells someone's hormones and he smirks at Jaskier, reaching the same conclusion. Jaskier rolls his eyes and mumbles I hate you before stepping away from the bike to meet his cellmate.

Her comment makes him snort. "He brought the wallet, but I was the mastermind. Shall we call it teamwork?" Annoyed as he may be, he wants things to proceed smoothly, so his hands begin gesturing dramatically to indicate his old and (hopefully) new friend. "Midge, this is Geralt. Geralt, this is Midge. Would you at least pretend that you picked up any manners from me?"

Geralt simply nods at Midge, and Jaskier rolls his eyes. One would think he was used to this by now.

"Don't take it personally, he's like that with everyone. Even his wife." A frowning Geralt playfully kicks the back of Jaskier's leg, and Jaskier chuckles, rather pleased with himself. The happy couple has been protesting over being called husband and wife since they've arrived, but Jaskier finds it easier than explaining the whole djinn situation. It's also helped with all the paperwork regarding Cirilla in this world, which is why they only half scold the bard for it.

Speaking of papers - Jaskier takes out a little paper from his pocket, which clearly was torn off from a notebook just a moment ago. He hands it to Midge, and when she unfolds it, she'll find his phone number with his name, which has a little buttercup drawn next to it. His penmanship is exquisite.

"If your offer was sincere, then - we can keep in contact, arrange a little shopping trip?"

Midge has no idea what a witcher is, but it could mean that he can turn into a cockroach and Midge would still find Geralt hot. She wouldn’t consider herself thirsty, but an attractive man is an attractive man.

“Very kind of you,” she replies to Jaskier’s comment about being the mastermind, though she’s looking at Geralt. After being introduced, Midge offers Geralt her hand, hoping that she will get a kiss on the back of it like she got from Jaskier.

Hearing that he has a wife is ultimately not that surprising, but it still feels like someone has popped her balloon. That someone is Jaskier. Midge eyes him, wondering if he’s telling the truth, but Geralt isn’t disputing it. He’s not saying much of anything. The strong, silent type are nice to look at, but Midge does like a bit of banter.

So much for that.

She’s a little annoyed at Jaskier for raining on her parade, but she takes the note with his number on it and puts it in her purse. She gestures for his notebook and pen and writes her name and number on a clean page.

“We can go to B Altman. The girls there will still let me use their employee discount.”

Dropping the wife bomb was a move to annoy Geralt, rain on Midge's parade, and save her from Yennefer's wrath. Jaskier thinks he's a mastermind indeed for pulling that triple threat with just one word.

He's a little nervous about handing her his notebook, and even Geralt raises his eyebrows in surprise. Jaskier never lets anyone look at his lyrics while he's still working on them. But oh well, this technically counts as an emergency, and Midge has enough manners not to look at the other pages.

"Sounds perfect! I shall write tomorrow then." He bows as a way to say goodbye. "Good night, my witty lady."

Both men then get on the bike, and Jaskier gets a helmet from Geralt while complaining about what it does to his hair. Before Geralt puts on his, he turns to Midge and talks in that growl of his.

"He's allergic to peaches. If he gets too annoying, just shove one down his throat."

"HEY!" The rest of Jaskier's protests are lost in the wind as Geralt finally takes off.

The next day, around lunchtime, a text with a poem arrives on Midge's phone.

Laugh a day
Laugh it now
Laugh as loud
as you want;
It shakes up your body
lets good things flow
through your veins;
Don’t think about it
just laugh a minute
or laugh a day
Laugh long as laugh-time

It’s the same thing with her comedy notebook. Midge guards that with her life.

“Goodnight,” she says, and then, sincerely: “Thank you.”

Admittedly, she’s still watching Geralt as he and Jaskier get on the bike. Wife or not, watching Geralt straddle something is doing things to her. She hadn’t noticed his thighs at first. He could crush watermelons with those things.

The raspy sound of his voice takes her aback, but what he says draws a grin from her. She watches as they ride off, then waits for Susie to come pick her up.

She’s sitting in the park the next day when she gets the text. A smile forms on her lips while reading it.

Did you write that?

Jaskier is still at home in his pajamas, raiding the fridge (such a wondrous invention!) while his family is out. Midge responds quite quickly, and he has to smile around his fork. The thank you had sounded sincere, but he couldn't be sure if she was annoyed for his stunt with Geralt('s wife). It seems he's made a good impression after all.

Indeed I did! Did you like it?

She was kind of annoyed, but she guesses that Jaskier’s motivation around telling her that Geralt is married is because he’s interested in her himself. Midge imagines that it’s tough having a friend who looks like that and it’s easy for the bard to get over looked. She’s choosing to see his very convenient mention of Geralt’s wife as flattering to her rather than selfish on his part.

I do. Midge wonders if he wrote it for her or if it’s something he already had in his notebook. I’m free tomorrow if you’d like to go to the store for your modern makeover.

That will also give her time to ask the girls about him tonight when she’s at the club.

"Fuck yeah!" he tells the empty room when she admits liking the poem. He wrote it quickly earlier just to send her something related to her art and he can already see fifty problems with it, but it's served its purpose.

Tomorrow works for me. Send me the address and we can meet there for lunch, mayhap? You could introduce me to your favorite restaurant.

Midge squints at the message on her phone. Lunch too?

Is that your way of asking me out without asking me out?

She could have just thought it, but she’s made a career out of saying what she’s thinking. Before he can send a response, she sends another message.

We can eat at the lunch counter in B Altman. It’s not my favorite restaurant, but it’s good. I used to work at the makeup counter.

[address]

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credit of that song to Deerstalker Pictures

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I’m so sorry jaskier

no you're not lol

He’s not sorry either!

he never is lol also laughing so hard at Midge trying to go for a hand kiss (poem by Raj Arumugam)

she thought that was a thing!

she's not completely wrong, sadly Geralt doesn't do court manners

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