Jaskier: What about Yennefer?
Geralt: If she's hurt Ciri, I may just have to kill her.
Jaskier: Oh, no, well, obviously we'll kill her. We'll definitely kill her. I just haven't found a good enough jabbing stick yet. But what if she's changed too? People do stupid things when they think they're trapped in a corner, Geralt. And they say stupid things. That's what friends do. They come back.
(Prison guard makes Jaskier stop singing...)
Jaskier (to mice): Guys, your harmonies were a little pitchy. Gordon, you're amazing. Talent recognizes talent. Let's go again. Three, four...
Oh, lock me up
And sock me up
And throw away the key
Go f**k yourself, you wh*reson
'Cause you're through f**kin' with me
(Geralt is outside the cell taking care of the prison guards...)
Jaskier: F**king hell! You know what? We're trying to rehearse in here! (to the mice): Gentlemen, I am so sorry. Give me a moment.
Jaskier: It's my job to put myself in other people's shoes. Even if they are, in your case, large, clunky, and, I don't know, probably full of snakes or something. I'm scared too. I'm scared that one day, the muses will stop speaking to me. Because who are we... When we can no longer do the one thing we were put on this Continent to do?
Yennefer: We find a new purpose. A better one. Hopefully.
Jaskier: Hmm. Chaos could never be done with the likes of you, Yennefer of Vengerberg. Of that much, I am certain.
(The dock guard offends Jaskier by criticizing his lyrics...)
Jaskier: Am I gonna say it? Yeah, I'm gonna say it. You know, if you could write yourself a little song, you could sing yourself whatever you please, but you can't, can you? Because you are a dockside scapegrace, a qualling feculent, a beef-witted, hell-hated, addlepated goon... and a waste of your father's... In all of my... leave it to... And maybe, just maybe, you are grateful to be entertained.
Dock guard: You're an hero to my niece.
Dock guard: Practically worships you.
Dock guard: She'll be heartbroken to hear her favorite bard is a steaming pile of sh*t for brains.
Jaskier: I sing of universal matters, my dear, generous lady. Emotions which anybody could experience. That song could be about anyone.
Yennefer: Mm. Mm-hm.
Jaskier: Anyone. Anyone.
Jaskier: Fine. Yes, when I wrote it, it did come from the heart. Perhaps a broken one.
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