Every spare moment he had, the witcher was burying his nose in whatever spot or nook on the bard's body that was available to him. Jaskier's neck was his personal favorite, mostly because his heartbeat was the strongest there and it was a firm reminder that he was real and here with him. He almost popped the top button off Jaskier's night shirt as he'd shoved his nose in between the fabric. If Jaskier felt like he was too all over the place, he hadn't complained yet.
"I don't hate them," he pulled back and rolled his eyes. "I just don't trust them. But I love you more than I dislike them so I let them stay." The witcher turned and glared at Jaskier's collection on the dresser for a brief moment, suspicion still not erased completely from his mind. Nothing was ever as it seemed. Even the hotel where they'd spent the last several months making it their home, Geralt wouldn't have been surprised at all if something nefarious was revealed about it. "But even if you came back with a dozen more dolls, I would still be happy."
Help from Yennefer wouldn't be an issue. At least, not one that they couldn't work through. Geralt nodded, confident. "I think she would. We've gotten along better. She was as worried about Ciri as I was. Finding a way to keep us all connected is a good idea. Especially if this happens in the future and one of us ends up somewhere that's not so pleasant." Later, he would bring this up to Yenn. They all could come together and have a discussion about what they could do.
He pulled at the stripes, testing the fabric of Jaskier's shirt. "Right now? I just want to pull you back into bed with me and not leave."