Unless he was wearing a binder or something in all your previous encounters, you are relatively certain this is not the bartender.
Rather than open your mouth about it you’re just going to assume this is a different Khajiit.
Soooo… hey, you point out. You can’t help but notice she has some slaughterfish there.
The Khajiit nods. Speaking with a heavy accent, she tells you they were in the well. The guard captain saw them and offered a reward to anyone who took care of them.
Oh, you say. That’s… actually, you were trying to get them out yourself just yesterday!
She neutrally comments that you did not succeed.
You admit to her that you could have maybe done better. It looks like a harpoon works well! You tell her that you actually tried harpooning them yourself, though your harpoon wasn’t nearly as good as hers.
It was way better than that one, though.
The Khajiit doesn’t say anything, so you continue.
I, ah, didn’t actually know about any sort of reward when I was fishing for those yesterday, you say. I figured I could just sell their scales, cook their meat, that sort of thing. Also, there was this woman there who wanted to poison the well or something if no one else could kill the fish.
The Khajiit confirms that slaughterfish scales do sell decently, and their meat is… acceptable. She’ll have it later tonight, herself, after she sells their scales and collects the reward. She saw no such woman at the well, though.
Oh, she left a long time ago. I kinda hope she’s in jail now. For putting people in danger, I mean. Like, no offense to you if you’ve been in jail before. For… Khajiit things.
So! How come you’re, ah, out in the snow with no shoes on?
She points out that it is the middle of summer. And in the far south of Cyrodiil. Snow was not expected.
Yeah, you say. You guess that… would be unusual. You ask if she’s alright, being barefoot in the snow.
She responds that every second she sits here is pure agony.
You’re not sure if she’s joking.
The Khajiit continues her dark glare for a while. Eventually, she says she recognizes you: you’re that Suthay-Raht with human-tongue. Scampered around yesterday morning, talking to everyone.
Oh! Yeah, you nervously laugh, that was me. I think I remember you, too. We spoke in Ta’agra, and you compared my speech to… I’m not sure, my parents never taught me the word.
She commends your parents on giving you a respectable upbringing.
So, ah, you’re some kind of… fisher?
Acrobat, she corrects. She helps townshumans and good-wizard Sigrid with odd jobs that need deep-climbs, long-jumps, or sight-in-dark-places or scaring-eye. Fixing weather vanes, finding lost keys, scare away wildlife on jobs too small for fighter’s guild, and the like.
Oh, I guess that kinda stuff makes sense for someone like you.
Like me, she asks.
Yeah, you say. You know. Like… us.
You ask the Khajiit if she wants to, ah, take this rope. You saw it here earlier so you’re guessing it’s not hers.
She tells you that, seeing as how it doesn’t belong to her, she’s going to do the responsible thing as a contributing-member of society and not steal it in plain view like some sort of racial stereotype.
You know what she’s trying to say to you, but right now you’re on a quest. Besides, the rope’s been here for a good ten hours by now. If someone needed it more than you do, they would have taken it already. And it’s not like you’re stealing it; you’ll bring it back later. It’s lying on the ground now and you’ll probably drop it back on the ground whenever you’re done with it.
The Khajiit makes a low, growling sound, but is otherwise silent as you gather up the rope. When you’re done, she mentions that it’s wet and late at night, and that she wants to go back home now.
Unless there is something else Khajiit wishes to waste this one’s time with?
Additional resource credits:
Cider – surly acrocats