Jaskier nodded in responce to both questions, although he felt awfully guilty for staying in such a lavish room in a lavish bed, surrounded by lavish drinks and amenities while Geralt had remained here at the dreadful Crown Plaza.
"I was comfortable, yes. And the people of Cancun.. They do all sorts of peculiar things. I learned a new dance, I listened to some awful music.. They have a sport called golf, where you take a stick and whack a tiny white ball around. And then you get to drive a motorized wagon between courses. It goes so fast, Geralt! It's so much fun. I wish I could have spoken with you.. I tried, but the communication devices didn't reach here.."
Poor Geralt. It must have been awfully frustrating, listening to the bard jump from miserable to excited, and back to miserable again. Jaskier's emotions were all over the place. He wanted to tell Geralt everything. About surfing, about the friends he had made. How he had tried so valiantly to find a way back, how much he drank to forget his sorrow. But most of all, how relieved and happy he was to be with his boyfriend again. Because, if given the choice, he would give up every luxury for the rest of his life if it meant staying with Geralt.
But before he could chatter on, Geralt had hushed him with a kiss. One that Jaskier eagerly returned. His arms wrapped further around those broad shoulders, bringing them as close together as he could manage. He wanted to laugh. Or cry. Or some awkward mixture of both. Which he did. Which ended up being three times as awkward because he was still trying to kiss his witcher. After a moment, he leaned back, letting out a sad little giggle and wiping his eyes with the back of his pajama sleeve.
"I'm sorry, I'm just so glad to see you.. There has to be something we can do to stop this from happening again, isn't there? A spell? A charm? Anything?"