"I'm telling you Geralt, my songs are definitely working."
"A few contracts not skimping on payment isn't proof Jaskier. It's coincidence." Geralt replied as he stuffed his newly purchased supplies into Roach's saddlebag. After two years, he didn't need to look to know the bard was probably doing his uncanny impression of a landed trout. His default expression when he thought himself gravely offended.
"Oh hoho. So it's proof you want? Fine, I'll get you proof you old cynic - wait, I'm here calling you old, how old are you? I know Witchers age differently but it's all so contradictory. I remember one text claiming you aged backwards. Backwards!"
Geralt was blessedly distracted from Jaskier's tangent by a small tug on his cloak causing him to look behind him and then down.
A small, tear stained face with huge, liquid brown eyes looked up at him. The hand that wasn't clutching Geralt's cloak fisted in the skirt of a green dress as she shuffled her small, booted feet. Witcher and child stared at one another and even Jaskier had fallen silent.
"Are you the White Wolf?" She asked in a small voice.
Geralt could only nod in response, keeping an eye and both ears out for angry adults about to accuse him of kidnapping.
"I can't find my Papa." She sniffled, voice trembling and eyes welling up.
He felt himself slip into Witcher mode, trying to think what could be snatching people from a crowded town in the middle of the day, "What do you mean you can't find him, has he gone missing or-"
"Sweetheart, do you mean you got separated from your Papa in the market?" Jaskier gently interjected before Geralt could start fully interrogating her. The girl gave a small nod, turning her attention to the bard now kneeling in the dirt next to her.
Geralt felt his face heat up. Right. Just a lost child. That was also a possible (and the most logical) explanation.
"It's ok, we'll help you find him. Won't we Geralt?" Jaskier's tone of voice leaving no room for argument.
