Geralt stood against a wall, his arms folded tightly across his chest as he glared out over the host of mages who danced and reveled. The air was filled with the sound of music, courtesy of Jaskier, whose tunes grated on Geralt's nerves. He found himself longing for the quiet solitude of the open road as he surveyed the room with a stormy scowl on his face. Reluctantly attending at Jaskier's behest, Geralt made it clear through his expression and body language that he did not want to be there.