"What a day! And it's not even half over. Well, for these brutes it is," he waves at the dead bodies of the Reavers, "but they deserved it, I guess. Thanks for the story, Borch. I really appreciate it. And I'll make sure to write the most glorious ballad about you three. The golden one with the golden scales, two warrior ladies from the Zerrikanes," he intones. "Uhm, no, doesn't sound catchy enough. What else does a golden dragon have, that is also, well, golden?"

Jaskier eyes Borch up, yet there is nothing golden about him in his human form. His eyes come to linger on the brown leather pants the man - no, dragon - is wearing, at a certain region of the leather pants. With the tip of his tongue, he licks his lips, clearly embarrassed.

"Spit it out, before you explode with curiosity. What is it you want me to ask?" Borch winks at the nosy human. He has a good idea of what the question will be about, of course, but making it too easy for Jaskier would take away half the fun.

"Well, I was thinking, clearly, if there's an egg, there was something before that that happened and I was wondering actually, if that is not too bold a question and inappropriate to ask it someone who can just fall off deadly cliffs and come strolling around the corner alive and kicking shortly after with his two warrior belles," he casts an admiring glance at Tea and Vea and their exotic, tightly fitting leather attire, his gaze resting on their square and very sexy neckline for just a moment too long.

"Well, and all their tools," he adds quickly, when the two huntresses glare at him. "Perfectly fitting ones, obviously, and quite deadly, too—"

"You're rambling, bard," Borch admonishes, but with a glint of amusement in his eyes. Humans. They do it all the time and everywhere with a staggering reproduction rate compared to the one of dragons. Yet, openly talking about sex seems to be uncannily difficult for this strange species, even for Jaskier.

"Right, I am rambling. I'm sorry. What I really wanted to ask is—" He takes a deep breath, then blurts out, "Do dragons have a penis?"

Tea and Vea hold their hands to their mouths and start to giggle. Darn, is that why they are following this short, greying man around?

"Well, this is indeed a good question considering that we are, actually, egg-laying reptiles, not mammals," Borch begins to speak. He could, of course, give him a straight answer. However, it is more fun to make him listen to a little zoological lecture first. Reptiles are so very much under-appreciated among most humans and their knowledge about them almost non-existent. Shedding some light on a few hardly known facts will not go amiss, even if they will most likely not make it into the ballad.

"Yet, penises are not restricted to the biological class of mammalia. Even invertebrates like slugs have them, and, compared to its body size, it can be astoundingly enormous. Being hermaphrodites, they have a vagina, too, "

Jaskier's eyes grow big. Never in his life has he thought about the sex life of slugs, not for the tiniest of moments. What it has to do with his original question eludes him though.

"But I digress, my apologies," Borch says with an amused smile. "The evolution of the shelled egg enabled vertebrates to become independent of lakes, rivers or the ocean for the development of their young. With them becoming fully terrestrial , the necessity for internal fertilisation arose. Have you ever, by any chance, seen a tortoise mate? Their penises are huge and they can keep it up for quite some time. Yet, they are only tortoises."

Borch grins at Jaskier.

"Do I need to elaborate," he asks with a wink.

"Uh, no— no, thank you, this was enlightening indeed, thanks again. But I believe my curiosity is quite sated for today. And for tomorrow, maybe even the day after tomorrow. It's time to get off this mountain anyway. Yarpen and the dwarves look like they're ready to go. And I would't like to be left behind by them, too." A dark shadow flitters across the usually so cheerful face of the bard, but only for a second or two. "Farewell then, golden one, and to the long-necked ladies also. I better run." Jaskier swiftly grabs his bag and starts to sprint after the dwarves who, despite their short legs, have set a brisk pace.

"Shit, Yarpen, wait for me!" he hollers, then half turns again and looks back over his shoulder. "And the best of luck with your shelled egg baby-thingy!" he says, waving a last good-bye. What a day indeed. First he misses out on all the action, then Geralt breaks his heart straight in two. Then he gets a free lecture about slug and tortoise sex, and some images in his head that he would rather forget about, and now he has to run down the mountain. This will surely ruin his favourite pair of shoes. Fuck, he needs a drink, or two or three. Preferably at a nice tavern. With a pretty waitress. And a bath tub. And no slugs and tortoises, or dragons.

"Ay, Jask, have I ever told ya 'bout how enormous a fuckin' dwarven cock is?"

Melitele's tits, no, not today!