[Jaskier tears out of his grip, half to get away from Geralt (even if the Witcher is, unfortunately, his best ticket out of here) and to get away from the wolf that weaves past him.

A white wolf.

For the first time, he doesn't need to ask what the creature is. A white fucking wolf. What else could it be?]

Yes, no shit. I did happen to notice that the doors disappeared! [He huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, staring at the wolf. (A better travel companion.)] Long enough I've been drunk and sober several times. How did you even get in here? There's no bloody doors.