[ Dylan's eyebrows raise and he pauses what he's doing long enough to give Jaskier a look. Because in his opinion? A hundred people is a small, intimate performance. And most bars fitted for performances, or 'taverns' if you will, allowed that many people to fit inside comfortably. But he supposes that might be a difference between the past and the present. In the present, it's easy to load into a car and drive a distance to reach said bar. In Jaskier's day and age, probably every town (big or small) had a bar.

Dylan goes back to his nails to finish off the first hand, curling them near his lips when he's done to gently blow on them. ]

I guess that's the good thing these days. Music can be recorded and reach everyone. It doesn't have to come from one kind bard willing to cater to a wide ranging audience. You lose the authenticity of a live performance with recordings but you gain the ability to listen whenever and wherever you want.

[ He pushes the bottles of polish toward Jaskier and holds out his unpainted hand -- the hint being that he'd like Jaskier to do the task for him while the other hand dries. But Jaskier likely knows Dylan enough by now to know it wouldn't bother him if Jaskier would rather not. ]

But yeah. I'd bet you're getting pretty stir-crazy here. From what people said, you guys were basically stuck in that hotel for a long time until God destroyed it, right? You at least liking this change of scenery? The whole mansion vibe?