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„Hello, Jaskier.“
The voice made him shudder and he couldn’t make the trembling stop for the life of him. The pathetic almost-whines neither, for that matter. For an arguably rather popular bard he had surprisingly little control over his vocal cords at the moment, fuck that guy puffing his hot breath into Jaskier’s face.
The flame coming from the finger – and Jaskier couldn’t even find it in himself to marvel at that – was far too close to his facial features, thank you very much. He had to swallow down a clump of fear bordering on panic.
“Not a fan, then, I gather?”, he ground out.
“I guess that remains to be seen.”, his abductor said slowly, the smirk wide on his face.
Jaskier felt the hand on his side wandering from behind his shoulder up the side of his head and the hair on the back of his neck stood up. Fuckfuckfuck.
A short yell broke free from him when the hand grabbed his hair, pulling him back and making his scalp burn – and before Jaskier could make sense of what was happening, the little tongue of flame went out and a fist rushed down on him. Pain exploded over his left eyebrow and his lower lip when his head snapped back. He instinctively wanted to move away from both of the hands but the fingers in his hair clasped tightly, making it impossible.
“Hngg, notafangotit.”, Jaskier babbled, his breathing picking up.
He tasted blood.
“Just to establish the ground rules.”, was the answer.
“For our little conversation. I have questions, Bard.”