Jaskier's phone buzzed incessantly in his pocket. He hoped that it wasn't important, but it would have to wait—he was about to begin his first performance for the day.

He approached the large group of tourists who stood talking amongst themselves outside the entrance of Camden Town Underground Station. Clearing his throat, he plastered a big smile to his face and began the speech that he knew so well now that he could recite it in his sleep.

"Good morning, everyone! Welcome to the Camden Market and Music Legends Walking Tour. My name is Jaskier and I will be your guide on this beautiful, chilly day."

The crowd of tourists fell silent and shuffled towards Jaskier like zombies, probably stiff from waiting in the cold for the tour to begin. Pointing up the street towards the multicoloured shop fronts that Camden was famous for, he continued his little speech.

"Today, we will journey through time, and learn how iconic British talents like Amy Winehouse, The Sex Pistols, Pink Floyd, and the Rolling Stones transformed Camden Town into the rock and roll capital of the world!" he declared. "We'll be visiting the beating heart of the city, where you'll get to enjoy performances from live musicians and sample delicious food from across the world! And don't you worry, there will be plenty of time to look around the stalls for a spot of shopping. Now, are you ready?"

The tourists mumbled somewhat unenthusiastically that they were, then one of the tourists, a round-faced gentleman with a Union Jack cap on, raised his hand. Jaskier turned his attention to him. "Yes sir, you have a question?"

The man lowered his hand and asked in a thick Californian accent, "Will we be visiting Abbey Road today?"

"I'm afraid not," said Jaskier with a sunny disposition that he didn't feel. "Today's tour will be centred around the Camden area."

"Why not?" the tourist pouted.

"Because Abbey road is at least an hour's walk in the opposite direction," he explained. "You're welcome to visit it yourself after this tour has concluded. Any more questions? Yes, Ma'am? Do you have a question about today's tour?"

Another tourist had raised her hand and she asked, "Is there a McDonald's around here?"

Jaskier's smile faltered. "Uh, yes. There's one about two or three minutes walk up the road there."

The woman turned and left without so much as a thank you to Jaskier, heading in the direction of the fast food restaurant. Jaskier sighed. Today was going to be a long day. "Any more questions? Nope? Alright then, onward towards Camden Town!"

The tour was wholly unremarkable: tourists asked their usual questions (where were the public toilets? How far away was London Zoo from here?) and he managed not to lose any of them in the bustling markets, which made a nice change. Still, the two hours dragged by and once the tour was concluded, he waved them off after leading them to the nearest underground station—but not before asking them for positive reviews on Tripadvisor.

With an hour's break before the next tour began, he made his way through North Yard towards Rudy's Dirty Vegan Diner. Triss was standing at the stall, her chestnut hair tucked into a hairnet as she served a long line of customers. Jaskier joined the queue and when it was finally his turn to order Triss's whole demeanour changed when she caught sight of him, transforming from a stroppy, bored salesperson to her usual self with a big smile.

"Alright love!" she cried. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm touring the markets today and I've got a bit of time before my next one," he explained. "I was wondering if you fancied joining me for lunch?"

"It's a date," she declared. Tearing off her hairnet, she yelled over her shoulder, "Rudy, I'm taking my break!" Turning back to Jaskier, she whispered, "Wait here and I'll grab us something to eat."

A few minutes later, Jaskier and Triss were sitting on the edge of the canal with two large Dirty Dog hotdogs in hand. Bless Triss and her sticky fingers, Jaskier thought fondly. The food at the market was delicious but it was bloody expensive. He took a sip from the chocolate peanut butter milkshake that she'd also managed to pinch from the kitchen before handing it back to her.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," he complained. "Standing out in the cold for hours on end, repeating the same lines over and over again. And the questions people ask! God, I've lost count the number of times people ask me where Sherlock Holmes lives—not only is he not from Camden, he's not even real! And it's not even like I get paid very well for the privilege."

Triss took a large bite out of her hotdog and shrugged. "It's a job, innit? Need to pay the bills."

"I know," he sighed. "It's just...this isn't exactly where I thought I'd find myself at twenty-seven."

"Sitting at the canal with me eating stolen hotdogs?" she joked. "What did you think you'd be doing?"

"Working in Abbey Road Studios, writing my latest album," he said dreamily. "Preferably rich and famous. At the very least, able to afford my rent without worrying about when my next paycheque comes in."

Triss choked back a laugh. "Let's be honest, even if you were rich and famous, in this town, you'd still be struggling to pay your rent!"

"True," he acknowledged with a small smile, which quickly fell. "But you know what I mean: I've been living and working in London for six years now and I've gotten nowhere with my music."

"You and everyone else," she quipped. "Don't get me wrong, you're a bloody good singer, and you write beautifully. But this is London, mate—we're not short of talented, creative people here. It's difficult to get your voice heard above everyone else's. Sorry if that sounds harsh, but it's the truth."

"I know. I'd rather that you were honest with me than spare my feelings with empty promises about how everything will work out in the end. I'm just tired, Triss," he admitted sadly. "Maybe I should just go home. I'm sure I can talk my parents into letting me move back into their place for a bit until I get back on my feet."

"And leave me here in this godforsaken city to fend for myself?" she cried. "Don't you bloody dare."

"Well, what other reason do I have to stay?" he argued. "As much as I love London, I don't feel like it loves me back."

"London is a tough city to live in," Triss agreed. "But true Londoners tough it out! Besides, think of the culture!"

"Oh yes, the culture," Jaskier drawled. "I'm waist-deep in it! Nope. That's not culture, that's student debt."

"We should have trained to be doctors," Triss mused. "Or bankers."

"We're not smart enough to do either of those things," he pointed out.

"Ah well, then. Looks like we were destined to be struggling artists and musicians. I know that things are tough at the moment, but remember you're not alone." She nudged Jaskier on the shoulder and smiled. "You've got me, haven't you?"

"Hmm, you make a persuasive argument," he chuckled. Just then, Jaskier's phone buzzed again. Pulling it out of his coat pocket, he was surprised to see several missed calls and a text message from—

"Oh my god," he gasped. "Geralt just texted me!"

"Who?" asked Triss, stuffing the last of her hotdog into her mouth.

"Geralt," he repeated. "The hot guy that I hooked up with at the club a few weeks ago."

Triss pulled a face. "Seriously? What does he want?"

Jaskier read the text message and his eyes narrowed. "He's asking me to call him. What do you think he wants?"

"Why don't you call him and find out?" she replied sarcastically.

Jaskier's heart was pounding. Admittedly, when he hadn't received a reply to his text message after that evening, he'd been sorely disappointed. He'd catalogued his mind-blowing night with Geralt into his wank bank for future use and moved on with his life. But here, two months later, was Geralt reaching out to him. Maybe he was just the type of guy who didn't like to appear too available? But after several weeks of silence, Jaskier thought if that was the case, then Geralt was taking the biscuit. Still, his curiosity got the better of him and he immediately hit the redial button. It only rang a couple of times when the call connected and he heard Geralt's voice on the other end of the line.

"Hello?"

Jaskier froze. Shit. How did one speak again? With words, he had to remind himself. Use your words!

"Hi! Hello...Geralt," he stammered. "It's me—it's Jaskier, uh...we met a few weeks ago at The White Orchard Club. You um, you wanted me to call you about something?"

"Smooth, Jaskier," Triss muttered. "Real smooth."

Jaskier waved his hand dismissively at her before clambering back to his feet and marching away from his friend to get some privacy.

"Oh hi," Geralt replied. "Yeah, I did. Um...look, I know this is coming a bit out of the blue but I need to talk to you about something. Could we meet up for dinner tomorrow night?"

Jaskier gaped. Spinning on his heel, he hurried back towards Triss, covered the mouthpiece on his mobile and hissed, "He wants to meet me for dinner!"

"Do you want to meet him for dinner?" she asked.

"Obviously!"

"Well, tell him that!"

Jaskier quickly composed himself, moved his hand away from the mouthpiece and said as casually as possible, "Yeah, that'd be great! Have you been to Balans before? It's just round the corner from Chinatown. We could meet there around nine, grab a couple of cocktails…"

"Yeah, that's fine. Can we meet at six? I'd rather keep it early."

Jaskier punched the air then. "Six it is. I can't wait to see you."

"Yeah," Geralt replied distractedly. "See you there."

Geralt ended the call and Jaskier proceeded to dance on the spot with an impromptu victory jig.

"I take that you'll be staying in London for a little bit longer?" Triss teased.

"At least until tomorrow night," he said cheerfully before despairing, "Oh god, now I'll need to find something to wear."

"What about that shirt I bought you?" she suggested. "It worked a charm the last time."

But Jaskier shook his head. "He can't see me wearing the same thing twice in a row! I'll need to wear something else—something sexy and sophisticated. And preferably cheap."

Triss laughed. "Something sexy, sophisticated and cheap—in London? You better turn up in your birthday suit then!"

"Maybe I will!" he joked. "You never know, it might guarantee me a second date."

Jaskier spent the next morning scouring the local charity shops for something decent to wear on his meagre budget—the less money he spent on clothes, the more he could spend on dinner that evening. The first few shops were slim pickings, but when he visited his local Oxfam he stumbled across a wrinkle-free dress shirt that fit him like a glove. He finished off the look with a pair of dark wash skinny jeans that he found tucked into the corner of his wardrobe and even made the effort to polish his chelsea boots. When he'd sent a selfie to Triss to get her opinion, she admitted that while she was disappointed that he hadn't worn his birthday suit, she thought that he looked great.

Arriving outside the restaurant shortly before six o'clock, he was surprised to see Geralt already waiting for him by the entrance. They greeted each other a little awkwardly, Jaskier moving in to give Geralt a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek while Geralt thrust out his hand for Jaskier to shake it. After a fumbled greeting, Jaskier checked his watch and asked, "I'm surprised to see you here already. I'm not late, am I?"

"No, I always arrive a little earlier than intended," Geralt explained. "Force of habit."

"Oh. Okay. Well...shall we go in?" Jaskier held the door open for Geralt and ushered him into the restaurant. "I managed to get a table booked for us."

Once the waiter showed them to their seats, he asked them what drinks they would like. Jaskier quickly scanned the page for the cheapest drink available. "Could I have a glass of your Chenin Blanc, please?"

The waiter nodded and made a note of the order in his pad. "Medium or large?"

"Small, please."

The waiter pursed his lips but made no comment. Jaskier knew exactly what he was thinking because he'd been in his shoes many times himself—this table would be bad for tips. Turning his attention to Geralt, he asked, "And for you, sir?"

"Just water for me, thank you."

"Are you sure?" asked Jaskier uncertainly. "You can have anything you like. I'll buy the first round."

"Water's fine," Geralt insisted, handing the bemused waiter his drinks menu.

"Very good, sir," he drawled before snatching Jaskier's menu from his hands and marching back towards the kitchen. Jaskier smiled nervously at Geralt, whose gaze seemed to focus on everything else in the room but Jaskier.

"Nice place, eh?" he prompted.

Geralt cast a disinterested glance around the restaurant's cosy interior. "It's alright, I suppose."

"Have you been here before?"

"No."

"Cool, me neither. You look great, by the way."

"Thanks." Geralt finally looked up at Jaskier then. "You look nice, too."

Jaskier couldn't help but feel immensely pleased at the compliment. Evidently, the effort he'd put in had paid off. "Thank you! My friend, Triss, tried to talk me into wearing that chiffon shirt of mine again, but I thought better of it."

A small smile crept across Geralt's face. "That's a shame. I really liked that shirt."

"Yeah? Well, maybe I can wear it next time we meet up," Jaskier offered, winking at him.

Geralt's reaction to this was to grimace and lower his gaze. Jaskier was confused: Geralt had been the one to suggest that they meet up, but so far, he was acting as though he'd rather be anywhere but here in Jaskier's company. The mixed signals were sending Jaskier's overactive imagination into overdrive—what was going on with this guy? The waiter arrived then with their drinks and asked if they were ready to order their meals.

"Just give us a couple more minutes," Jaskier requested. When the waiter was out of earshot, he said to Geralt, "I'm gonna be honest with you, I was surprised that you invited me out to dinner. Pleasantly surprised, mind you, but I'd just figured that after you didn't text me back after that night, you...well, I figured that you weren't interested in seeing me again."

Geralt grimaced. "Yeah, I'm sorry that I didn't call you back. I've been busy with work and—" He stopped talking abruptly, took a swig of his water and spoke again. "I just thought it would be good for us to hang out and...I dunno, get to know each other a little bit better since we didn't really get a chance to talk much the last time."

Jaskier chuckled. "Nope, that we didn't. Well, I'm all ears, now—tell me about yourself. How've you been since we last saw each other?"

Geralt looked suddenly nervous. "Yeah, that's actually what I wanted to talk to you about. There's something that I need to tell you."

"Okay…"

Geralt took a deep breath and forced himself to look up into Jaskier's eyes then. "I'm pregnant."