Jaskier & Geralt.
This was... absolutely pointless. No. No, that wasn't true. There was a point to this, but as Geralt found himself weaving awkwardly between the people gathered in the club and trying very sincerely to avoid eye contact with everyone lest they take it as an invitation to talk (many people already hadn't needed an invitation), it had become much more of a chore than he'd expected it would be. Jaskier was behaving... odd wasn't the right word. No, Geralt had seen Jaskier in his odd moods before, and this wasn't one of them. No, what he was being was uncharacteristically aggressive. Perhaps he would have expected this if they hadn't cleared the air, if he hadn't cleared the air. He'd been expecting that kind of reception when he'd went to retrieve him initially and been met more with mildly irritation and reluctant acceptance. But now... Now, it just seemed to be flat out anger and avoidance.
And Geralt couldn't for the life of him understand why.
So he'd put on a regular and what seemed to be appropriate outfit and headed out to what seemed like the most Jaskier of events that he'd heard of since getting here in order to try and seek him out. Because it would be one thing if Jaskier was angry and decided to scream at him until he'd gotten it out of his system. But all of this... pretending like he didn't exist wasn't getting them anywhere.
It had only taken a few minutes scoping the dance floor (Jaskier always did love to stand out) until he'd spotted him, and then, it was just a matter of sliding up in next to him and clearing his throat. Jaskier couldn't not acknowledge him if he was standing right there.