Warmth

                                    

                                          
Jaskier stood by Roach. Geralt discussed the terms of the contract he had pulled off the notice board. The bard didn't pay attention to the conversation. Instead, he focused on flirting with the women who passed by despite their varying level of interest. He frowned when one of the women giggled behind her hand before she quickly scurried back to another man. She fell into his arms. The man glared. Was every woman in this town spoken for? 
He looked back at Geralt when he heard his heavy boots heading back to him. The Witcher was tucking the coin purse into his coat. He was grumbling under his breath as he brushed his hand along his chestnut horse. The bard raised his eyebrows slightly at the sight. 
"Pay not as good as you'd hoped?" Jaskier asked simply. 
"Three quarters of what was written."
"Did they take out tax?" Jaskier joked softly. 
"Hmm." Geralt grumbled, not interested in the conversation. 
"What inn are you headed for?"
Geralt moved his silver sword from his back to a bag on Roach. The bard assumed it was because the metal was not only more brittle than steel, but probably put a target on his back with what it would probably cost. Geralt looked at Jaskier confused from the question. He didn't put his confusion into words. He simply squinted at the man. 
"Well, if it was different than mine, I wanted to know. Especially if I'm going to be tagging along with you on your escapades. After all, how are you supposed to have a travel companion if you leave your companion behind in Novigrad?" 
"I'm going to sleep out of town." 
"There's no inns for miles outside of the town." 
"I've slept in the woods before." 
"That's depressing." Jaskier muttered under his breath. 
The bard paused when he felt the wind blow. Cold travelled on the winter breeze and threatened more snow by the moment. Jaskier couldn't let Geralt sleep in the woods when he had a room paid for. The man had saved his life. Still, did he want to sleep beside the man who had screamed at him to try to get him to remember him. The grip on his arm was still very prominent on his mind; the bruise had lasted for days. 
His internal debate was cut short when Geralt got atop his horse. Jaskier sighed. Morally, he couldn't let the man who had saved his life freeze in the woods.
"Geralt?"
"Hmm?" 
Jaskier swallowed thickly. He couldn't believe he was doing this. "There's the inn I'm staying at down the way." 
"I'm not wasting coin on a room, Jaskier."
"That's not what I meant." The bard sighed. "I have a room. It beats sleeping in the woods with the threat of more snow coming in. If you don't take up the bed entirely with your..." Jaskier paused as he looked the Witcher up and down, focusing mainly on his arms, "bloated biceps I would be willing to share it." 
Geralt scoffed at the words. He looked at the bard surprised to see he was serious. Jaskier looked up at the Witcher anticipating an answer. Geralt sighed. He looked towards the woods before back at the troubadour. 
"I'm not welcomed in this town." Geralt brought Jaskier's attention to the people walking by. They stared up at the white-haired man. A few of the men even spat at the mare's hooves before they continued on. 
"The town isn't in my room." Jaskier joked as he rolled back on his heels. "I don't seduce that many people." 
Geralt scoffed a laugh. "I don't think it's a good idea, Jaskier."