"Ugh, New York." Jaskier dramatically rolled his eyes. "That was annoying to deal with." The bard had finally been able to show off his combat skills and, truth be told, it was nice to know that all that training had paid off. Still, if Jaskier was given the choice, he'd pick something like this resort over battling a monster any day of the week. If he didn't need to lose his weight in sweat and throw his back out while fighting something that was several feet taller than him, he wouldn't.
Jaskier would then lead them away from the beach, heading back towards the lobby of their current hotel. Surely, if there were any helpful clues as to where they were or what was going on, there would be something useful there.
"Who made the first move?" The bard's eyebrows lifted. Asking Jaskier literally anything was a bad idea because he would absolutely talk the other man's ear off (especially since he was talking about Geralt, his all-time favorite subject). But Wesley couldn't possibly have known what he was getting himself into before now. Hopefully, Wes didn't mind the chatter, because there would be a lot of it.
"Oh, I did. Several times. Over. And over. And over. Geralt liked to pretend like he wasn't interested in me." Or rather, for a time, the witcher genuinely wasn't interested in him. Or had been oblivious to Jaskier's advances. Or acknowledged them, but did not return them. But those were an unnecessary details, right? "But eventually, I got through to him. Persistence pays off sometimes, you know?"