how would you want geralt and jaskier’s reunion (and hopefully GERALT’S APOLOGY or else imma slap him) to go?

    i am but a simple woman. i want but a simple melodramatic rescue reunion.

    <>EXTERIOR ESTABLISHING SHOT: A dank, squalid town at night. Angry voices carry through the fetid air.

    <>Enter JASKIER, at a run. Lute slung over his shoulder, hair tousled. He adjusts his doublet as he runs, cheeky and unconcerned.

    <>Leader of gang: There he is! We’ll teach him to interfere with a lady who belongs to another!

    <>Angry townsman: Get the little bastard!

    Jaskier looks over his shoulder and grimaces, then flees beyond the town gate and into the dark trees beyond.

    <>Leader: He’s heading for the forest.

    <>Gang member: I’m not going in there. You know what they say. It’s haunted.

    <>Leader: Coward!

    They bicker. <><>

    <>Cut to Jaskier, smug at his own cleverness and ducking between low branches.

    In the background, barely visible, a strange and unnatural shape moves against the darkness.

    <>Jaskier, chuckling: Superstitious idiots.

    The dark shape moves closer. We see dripping fangs and sharp, bloody claws. From its POV we see it approach Jaskier, who is breathing heavily but blissfully unaware of its presence.

    <>The creatures HISSES.<>

    Jaskier turns, eyes wide, terror on his face. The creatures swipes at him and he stumbles backward, falling to the forest floor.

    The creature looms over him. It is hideous, teeth protruding at every angel from its mouth, grey skin hanging in boiled-covered flaps over long, spindly limbs which terminate in razor sharp claws.

    The creature’s foul breath ruffles Jaskier’s hair.

    <>Jaskier: Oh shi-

    An <>arc of silver<> slices through the air, slashing across the creature’s arm. It rears back, screeching furiously. The silver blade returns, stabbing straight through its chest before pulling back and decapitating the creature in one mighty swing.

    Blood and gore splatters across Jaskier’s face.

    <>Jaskier, nose wrinkling: For fuck’s sake.

    Jaskier looks up from where he is sat in the mud. There, silhouetted against the moonlight, is <>Geralt<>. His hair blows magnificently in the breeze. His eyes glint. His expression is grim as he stows his silver sword.

    <>Jaskier, unconvincingly feigning disinterest: Oh. Geralt. There you are. How long has it been? A while. Since. Well. Anyway. You’ve got good timing, I’ll give you that -

    Geralt holds up a hand to silence him. Jaskier snaps his mouth shut instantly.

    Geralt extends the hand to Jaskier, who tentatively takes it.

    Geralt helps Jaskier to his feet, then, to Jaskier’s astonishment, pulls him into a tight hug.

    <>Jaskier: Oh. That’s. Umm. Okay then.

    Jaskier pats Geralt’s back, uncertain and a little awkward. Geralt hugs him tighter.

    <>Jaskier, struggling slightly to breathe: You, uhh, you okay there, buddy?

    <>Geralt, very quietly: I missed you. I’m sorry. I hope it’s not too late. Forgive me?

    Jaskier pulls back with a small, sad smile on his face. He reaches up to take Geralt’s face in his hands.

    <>Jaskier: For you? Always.