Amy
"Says the one who slaughtered a carriage of people." The voice responds, "Mainly because I'd rather not get my boots dirtied with mud and blood. Not unless I really need to. Plus I'd lose this perfect angle I have on you, I can practically see the bolt as it flies into your chest."
Brenda
"You call them people," The dunmer growled. "They were *Thieves* On a getaway. Neither horse nor carriage or the whole pile of rubbish on this shit streak road was ever *Theirs!*" Shouted with a wide flourish of outspread hands as the dark elf turned a circle in the downpour. 

"And they didn't even have it in them to die with *My* Things on them!"
Amy
"And you're fit to be their executioner? I didn't realize you were the local guard." The voice says mockingly, "Don't think I don't see how you tore that orsimer completely in half. He died screaming if I recall correctly. Not exactly a quick death." He laughs at the dunmer's last statement, "And you even had the wrong ones! My, my, what a messy situation you've gotten yourself into. Who are you to say they were even thieves in the first place. For all I know you just massacred a trade caravan."
Brenda
"Forgot other mer walk around with snoot up their noses, can't smell much of a damn thing can you? Too high off the fumes of your own shit. Bet you don't even know what *You* Smell like." The dunmer spat at the base of the tree, clapping his hands together as he turned and set to pilfering what he could from the dead. There was a little coin to be had, but evidently not much else of interest, save for a book or journal of some kind the crouching dark elf started pawing through, shielding the pages from the downpour with his own back.