Chapter Text
"Is that my shirt?” The words sound distant in Geralt’s own ears. Strangled.
Jaskier smiles, not embarrassed but almost sheepish. “Yes. Well. I was covered in blood and guts and dirt and I had to wash and once I washed I didn’t want to put my filthy clothes back on and I couldn’t seem to find any clean ones so this was all that was available until mine are dry.” Jaskier points across the clearing to where all his clothes are spread out to dry. When he raises his arm the shirt lifts enough to show he’s wearing nothing underneath.