“Back. Off.” The Khajiit was bleeding and he didn’t trust that undead son of a fetcher an inch when he probably smelled like a banquet after a fast. Some drunk bastard had pulled a knife on him outside the Bee and Barb and got a lucky shot in, which while the wound wasn’t that bad, the fact that there was blood everywhere and rapidly soaking into his fur and clothes despite a firm pressure on it with a bloodthirsty vampire around… Well, the tight grip on his dagger held out in front of him seemed very justified.
“<You make a single move towards me and you’ll be scooping your insides off the ground.>” J’hasi hissed, trying to hide his trembling and failing. He needed to get out of the city. Or find Brie-no, no, he’d worry her then. And possibly lead this bastard right to her too. Fuck.
vvardenfellcat 