Geralt lets out a low chuckle at that. Eskel is one of the only people he's comfortable with enough to show this type of emotion. He's getting back to that point with Jaskier now, after so long being separated from each other. "He talks even in his sleep," Geralt tells him. "Sometimes he sings."

He helps Eskel lean forward, carefully peels off the bandages from his shoulder and hisses when he sees the wound. It's obvious now why Vesemir had cautioned the bard away not because of the danger the potions posed to him - as long as he didn't ingest them he would have been fine - but because of the gruesome crater in Eksel's shoulder. "If this is closing, I would hate to see what it looked like before. Fuck, Esk. I wish would have gotten to you sooner."

He pours the potion into the wound, making sure the full vial goes in. Once he's satisfied that it's there properly, he wraps it back up. "Do you want me to help you out so you can watch me run the Killer? Or would you prefer the bard to suck your prick again?"