“Oh, just be happy for him,” Midge says as she fills the glasses of water. His friends don’t seem terribly happy for him. Maybe they think this is just a temporary thing. That thought is kind of depressing.
Water in hand, she follows Geralt into the hallway. “Good night.”
Geralt just lets out an amused snort. They're all happy for him, they just suck at showing it.
When Midge returns to Jaskier's bedroom, she'll find him wearing the other silk robe and sitting on his desk, humming while writing in his notebook. He's concentrated so he doesn't hear her come in.
Midge smiles at the sight of Jaskier sitting at his desk. She places the glasses of water on it, then wraps her arms around him from behind and leans down to kiss his temple.
Jaskier's startled by the sudden touch but it only lasts a second - he quickly relaxes into her hug and leans back to kiss her cheek. Her hand, however, closes the notebook. He doesn't like it when people look at his unfinished writing.
"Trying to find a way to describe your tits in a way that makes their beauty justice."
"An ode to my goddess," he replies as he moves his chair back a little to bring Midge to his lap. After drinking some of the water, he talks again. "I must be careful, though. I can't have Susie asking for profits over your persona."
He gasps when he realizes something. "I haven't introduced you!" He lifts the shawl that is covering something big on the back of his desk to reveal a typewriter. It stands next to pens but also quills and ink bottles, so everything together makes for a funny historial sight.
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“Oh, just be happy for him,” Midge says as she fills the glasses of water. His friends don’t seem terribly happy for him. Maybe they think this is just a temporary thing. That thought is kind of depressing.
Water in hand, she follows Geralt into the hallway. “Good night.”
no subject
When Midge returns to Jaskier's bedroom, she'll find him wearing the other silk robe and sitting on his desk, humming while writing in his notebook. He's concentrated so he doesn't hear her come in.
no subject
“Whatcha working on?”
no subject
"Trying to find a way to describe your tits in a way that makes their beauty justice."
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“Hmmmm… I guess it depends on what you’re writing. Is it a song? A poem? A racy novel?”
no subject
He gasps when he realizes something. "I haven't introduced you!" He lifts the shawl that is covering something big on the back of his desk to reveal a typewriter. It stands next to pens but also quills and ink bottles, so everything together makes for a funny historial sight.