Jaskier's whole expression shifts to something vaguely pained, but confusion darts across it as she leans toward him. At once he leans for her, his hands reaching to grab hers between them. He nearly swings himself off the chaise in the process and has to do a rather ungainly sort of backward lean to keep from falling.

"I am fine, it is fine, please don't worry yourself--" Jaskier assures her and the edges of exhaustion start to creep across his face. The story he'd told to Tristan and Marta was a long one and, frankly, he'd spent all but the barest scraps of his energy on it.

"I am just--" he starts and lets out another heavy, groaning sigh as he ducks his head to press it atop his hands and hers within them.

"This is why I do not travel as Julian, this is why I sing for my supper and spend not a coin of this fortune, nor stay in these places," Jaskier tells her very quietly, in a sharp stage whisper. The maid hears him but she is dutiful in her cleaning and, frankly, seems entirely unsurprised. He's the family's worst kept secret and they loathe him nearly as much as he loathes them.

"This will be miserable, I am so sorry," he adds and picks his head back up.