Jaskier frowned as he looked at you. You had put on a dress whose cleavage was too much, in his opinion. He played a couple of chords on his lute, while you could see from the reflection of the mirror his visible disgust.

"Isn’t that, like, too much?" You heard him mumbling. You were surprised by that comment, and he soon cleared his throat. "I mean—, you look beautiful. You’re dazzling. You’re like, like the river of gold that men wish to bathe in. It’s just that..."

Jaskier was precisely a man who did not usually complain about the few clothes on women. But for some reason, this time he seemed really uncomfortable.

"That’s the problem, you know?" He got nervous. You looked at him in confusion. "Men."

He looked away visibly embarrassed. Again he concentrated on his lute.