[Jaskier waves his hand as if her worry is a fluttering fly, though he definitely also sort of glances over his shoulder. Gods, it's been a bit since a beautiful woman asked him that, isn't it?]

Oh, you know. Some days are like this. [That is not an answer. It definitely isn't, but if he looks like he's sat here and been having a conversation, he simply blends in to the crowd. He brushes his fingers through his hair to right the little curls -- growing much longer than he's kept them in a some time now -- and he turns back with a smile.]

How are you? You look absolutely lovely today. I love your -- [He gestures to his own hair] The color, it's striking, like the glint of sun on a sword. Ah, no, that's too violent -- but perhaps it fits?

[Look, it's hard to think of pretty similes when your lungs are burning a bit.]