Chapter Text
Jaskier was done. He had to get out of that stuffy tavern, filled with joyous calls and cackles, waving hands and games with cards flying. He couldn’t handle much more of it, not after the damned mountain.
Not after every single damn patron asked for that blasted song-
Finishing the song he was singing in the most lackluster way he ever had before, he ended it just as the repeat was to happen. Snapping his head up, Jaskier gave his audience a flirtatiously fake smile while rising to a stand. “Good evening my lovely friends!” Winking at a gaggle of girls off to the side who kept giggling, he returned to what he was doing, “it seems as if my voice is beginning to give out,” a couple of boos and awws filter through the air as Jaskier raises a hand. “And we all know that means a musician must take a break! So, adu, to you lovely people for the night!” Feeling his breath just stutter ever so slightly at catching a glimpse of platinum hair, he shook his head and made his way to the table he had originally set up as a base of operations. Not like the tavern owners, a lovely couple, would be mad at him after pulling all those guest in.
Placing the lute that has seen twenty- almost twenty one- years of bullshit, into its case after dumping the few coins on the table. Latching the expensive case shut, he shuffled things around until the bard was able to comfortably carry all his belongings. Walking briskly past tables and wandering patrons of the tavern, he made for the exit of the tavern. Suddenly a hand grabbed onto his bicep, yanking him back slightly and holding him in place. A man who looked to have one to many spirits that night was staring at him for just a few to long seconds. “Can I help you this fine night, sir?” Jaskier could feel the slight twitch in his brow, feeling the anger that he had suppressed ever since his life went to shit- “You a damn Witcher too?”
His brain short circuiting at the question. While slurred and half grumbled, the bar suddenly went quite. Mutterings began to rise in waves of noise. Jaskier seemed to finally snap out of the stupor the question had put him in. “What in the absolute fuck, made you think that?” The question was asked in a deceptively calm voice, but by the way the crowd backed away, everyone except that damned drunk, it wasn’t as indifferent as he had hoped. Staring at the mans glazed over, blood shot eyes, one could say that the bastard was actually amused.
“Well, I heard that Witchers got ‘em those slitter eyes,” raising his eyebrow irritatedly, Jaskier stared at the stupid man who wouldn’t just remove the Melitele damed hand-
“Ya eyes are slitted.”
And just like that, Jaskier swore to never return to this tavern, yanked his arm out of the grip of this buffoon, and all but sprinted out the door.