Jaskier must be so very careful with his exploits. Yennefer knows of his exploits from the grapevine. So far it is only torrid and whirlwind affairs. No orphans or women left to care of a child without the father. With his dark hair, it would be easy to say that any wayward seed would belong to another. Though knowing the sensitive, poetic heart that beats beneath silks and crushed velvet, Yennefer knows he would not stand for such a ruse.

"I will obtain a proper thanks when you are well." For whatever that means, this was not because she was seeking a prize. Watching him lift his hand, she meets him half way. There was such a restlessness, such a panic. She could feel herself start to boil from the inside. Now stillness, quiet.

Her dear, dear friend. Yennefer clutches him more tightly and lifts their joined fingers to her cheek. "Don't fall asleep in the road, Jaskier. We will find grass and shade. Settle for--for a picnic." The kind where medical attention is administered. She has a full tea set and at least two sandwiches in her satchel. "After the picnic we'll rest and head back to town." No portals. On foot. Unless there is a fellow traveler with a wagon or carriage passing through. The weather is kind this day. Maybe they both can be even more lucky.