It happened what simply had to happen considering the circumstances.
The witcher, searching for nothing but peace and rest, was now sieged by two penetrant nuisances and compelled to tell them all those things he wished to forget.
Jaskier and Fenneka turned out to be stubborn and creative, so for Geralt, there was no escape.
Then again, as he realized with surprise, he actually liked it in The Fabulating Fox.
The beds and the rooms were clean, the food plenty and delicious, the drinks were cool.
Roach and Pegasus enjoyed the break.
They could stay for a few days.
Murky Waters was a place that welcomed them.
Fenneka controlled the selling of drinks; who drunk too much got warned and as one of the guests didn't want to listen, Geralt had finally another opportunity to show how fast he could grab somebody by the collar and make them have an airing to sober up.
In the evenings they sat by the flickering fire place and candles, Jaskier sang and Fenneka fabulated, drew beautiful, sad, interesting, funny and thoughtful tellings in the heads of her audience.
"What did she call it?" the witcher mused. "Small niblets, stirred from different sources, laced with a pince of irony, peppered with puns and flavored with love."