[Sam has absolutely no idea how much that jest registers with him. Jaskier's eyes open a little wider as he sputters, and then he laughs -- half in horror, half in genuine humor. After watching that fucking half-feral knight Sir Eyck utterly tear apart that poor hirikka (he thinks now, safely away from its rather sharp claws)...
Oh, gods. How the fuck was that nearly a season past? If only he hadn't his throat slit, mayhap he'd have half a barony now.]
Only the shitty, horrible ones. A smart knight, I'm told, gets paid. I trust a man who wants coin over one who wants reputation. The latter always tend to be... [He holds a hand up, leveling it out, moving it back and forth. The intention is certainly to mean, you know the sort, don't you?
He laughs again. Gods, Sam is quite easy to talk to, isn't he? There's no drawing information out of him like sand through a sieve. He offers it -- mostly, though he skirts using exact terms about who, or what, he is. Which is fine. Jaskier can play the long game.]
"Badass." That's a queer term. It doesn't sound exactly complimentary. [But he grins. Clearly he meant it to be, it's only -- it may not roll off well in a ballad. Jaskier picks as his cuticles as he listens, his eyebrows raising a bit. Speaking of ballads... this group certainly has the makings of one from description alone. Wizards and aliens? Super soldiers? Perhaps something like Geralt? Huh.]
It sounds like you mean you're human. Which, look, I understand. Witchers, sorcerers, dragons. Sometimes you simply are the normal human of the company.
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Oh, gods. How the fuck was that nearly a season past? If only he hadn't his throat slit, mayhap he'd have half a barony now.]
Only the shitty, horrible ones. A smart knight, I'm told, gets paid. I trust a man who wants coin over one who wants reputation. The latter always tend to be... [He holds a hand up, leveling it out, moving it back and forth. The intention is certainly to mean, you know the sort, don't you?
He laughs again. Gods, Sam is quite easy to talk to, isn't he? There's no drawing information out of him like sand through a sieve. He offers it -- mostly, though he skirts using exact terms about who, or what, he is. Which is fine. Jaskier can play the long game.]
"Badass." That's a queer term. It doesn't sound exactly complimentary. [But he grins. Clearly he meant it to be, it's only -- it may not roll off well in a ballad. Jaskier picks as his cuticles as he listens, his eyebrows raising a bit. Speaking of ballads... this group certainly has the makings of one from description alone. Wizards and aliens? Super soldiers? Perhaps something like Geralt? Huh.]
It sounds like you mean you're human. Which, look, I understand. Witchers, sorcerers, dragons. Sometimes you simply are the normal human of the company.