[ He's seen this look before. The stumbling over words, the awkward laughing, the blushing. She must be a fan of his! For he has many strewn across his own world, and maybe there's some here, somehow... on his first ever day in this new universe.

Jaskier's smile spreads as he shifts his weight, hip jutting, and moving to rest an arm jauntily on the neck of his leather cased lute hanging off his shoulder. ]

Mm, those that can. [ Because there's a whole lot of illiterate folk where he's from. Sad, really, but his existence at least helps to spread tales across the villages. Doing the world a service, he likes to think. ]

And yet so few write for pleasure. What secrets hide amidst those pages of yours, I wonder. What dreams, what aspirations?