Tina
Salen shook his head. "Labor... Perhaps to one such as you. I'm sure you Telvanni still keep your slave pens well stocked." He moved his hands, placing a palm on the hilt of his dagger. He then moved again clasping his hands behind his back, turning his head to rest his eye on Varis' face, gazing for a reaction. The insult had been a weak one, but it was best to make sure tempers didn't fly in the palace. "The Thalmor has it's reason to remain here, much to the dismay of myself, and my peers."

"Any missions or investigations regarding Talos worship is classified. Nothing I can share with the likes of you. That, and having one good eye doesn't bode well for such dealings." Salen squeezed his hands behind his back. A sting of disappointment. It left as soon as it came. Leaving him feeling hollow. He focused back on Varis. "And what are you called Dunmer? You are clearly high ranking, you speak like a noble. I need a name, and ideally the length of your stay." 

Salen knew that his higher ups would be interested. Keeping tabs on a powerful individual was necessary.
Jared
The Wizard chuckled at the Thalmor's jab, clearly enjoying the quip. It was a good one, but by no means could it be insulting toward a Telvanni. "That we do. Though, I personally have no love for the enslavement of mortals. As for what your people do, with the Goblins," Varis nodded. "Such inferior denizens of this world are perfectly deserving of such a fate. However, my most preferred slave is one from Oblivion. An immortal farmer is much better than one that needs to be whipped, and will die long before its time."

"As for name, Varis Xai'Shen, Spellwright of House Telvanni." Varis understood why Salen asked. He portrayed himself as a powerful person, and this Thalmor wanted to keep tabs. Or at least, have his underlings keep tabs. Such was expected, why disguise it? His face was infamous among the wealthy in the city, and those lingering in the darkest underbellies. He was gaining traction, and quickly, within Skyrim. 

"As for the length of my stay, indefinite. A labor population does not need to consist of slaves. A paid population is a comfortable one. Even when you perform the most horrendous actions against them, buy their labor for cheap, they will not rebel. They are getting paid, when once, they were homeless, or serfs working off debts in farms. Give people to work for, rather than a whip, and your population never stops working."

Varis grinned a little. "Such works on my plantations and kwama mines back home. Such will work here."
Tina
Salen nodded his head once. "So you are a conjurer then, how... Pleasant." Salen made no effort to hide his displeasure. He was never a fan of summoning daedra, nor anything from oblivion. He let out a sigh as Varis continued speaking, once the other mer had finished. Salen muttered out a response. 

"I see, I will make sure this, information, gets processed. So long as you do not pose a threat to the Dominions dealings within this country. You will not be bothered. Though, since you seem to only be here for research and labor, I doubt you plan on trying something." Salen took a moment to dedicate Varis' name and cause to memory. He highly doubted that there would be a clash between the wizard and the Thalmor. Dunmer steered clear of them, at least, those who weren't loyal to the Empire did. And a Telvanni wizard would be the furthest thing from an imperial loyalist. 

"Now, is there anything else you require from me, Dunmer? Because I must remind you that this corridor is off limits until the meeting has concluded." Salen moved to stand in the middle of the hall, glancing behind him to check if his superiors were done.
Jared
The Wizard almost smiled from ear to ear at the mention of his arcane practice. The man was right. A Conjurer, through and through. He only nodded to it, and continued to listen to Salen as he muttered and seethed through gritting teeth. The Dunmer was ecstatic to see a Thalmor squirm. It was so quick, with their pathetic Aedric Religion. Weak Carrion Gods. Nothing in the eyes of the Reclamations. Not even in the eyes of the old Tribunal, as heretical as that thinking was. 

*I doubt you plan on trying anything.* 

That was an intriguing phrase. Varis remained silent at its mention, only raising an eyebrow, before the Altmer went on to warn him. 

"Hm. I suppose not. At least, not at this current juncture." He chuckled a little as he pulled himself up and off the wall, and got a bit closer to Salen, their eyes merely a foot and a half apart as he said, "You say you got that scar in the Civil War. Long time ago, and you were of age to fight, and travel, conquer the religion of this land. Which means, you've been here too long to not be in that room." 

Varis's words were drenched in venom and malice, as he seemed utterly amused by the idea. "Stay in touch. I likely won't get you a higher position among the Thalmor, but, I think we could help each other. You get a chance at real power, and I," He shrugged, frowning as he looked toward the docks. "Get information."

Then, back to Salen. His eyes wholly focused on the man's eyes, as those Azuran Star eyes writhed and wormed their way into Salen's skull. Figuratively. *A bit of illusory spellcraft, and he would break.*

"Hm. Tidings, Outlander." Varis chuckled a little before he abruptly turned and walked away from Salen, hand behind his back, book at his side, as he walked through the Blue Palace hallway toward the exit.
Tina
Salen ground his teeth as Varis mentioned his long and stagnant service in Skyrim. "My orders are to remain here, to guard them. The details of my service are between me, and them." Salen felt anger rising within him. He took a breath, it did little to calm him. 

"Do not think yourself my equal Dunmer. And do not suppose that I would willingly converse with you about anything." Salen hissed out, his features twisting with displeasure. Varis' barbs cut had deeply. A twisting sickness ran through Salens belly. Had he not been in the palace, he would have struck the shorter mer. His hand went quickly to his dagger, and he gripped the hilt tightly. Hand shaking slightly as his being screamed for him to draw the blade. He wouldn't, with his superiors so close, and outburst could be the end of him. He steadied himself as the Dunmer turned and left. He felt a pain behind his blinded eye, a familiar pressure that occurred whenever he got too emotional. Salen turned to look back at the window, mind racing as he watched the harbor once more. 

His frustrated abated after several minutes. Salen learned early on that holding on to that anger was unproductive. And as much as he wanted to seethe in it, he still had a job to do. His wait finally came to an end when his superiors finished their meeting. Salen fell in line as the group of Altmer left the building. Already writing his report about Varis in his mind as they returned to the embassy.
Jared
The Dunner stayed long enough to hear the Altmer's words, and only remained passively amused as he walked away from Salen. 

Though, in the midst of Salen's thoughts, the Telvanni's voice whispered, beneath his thoughts of that report, like a spider creeping along the underside of a web.

*I would never think us equal. But, it is possible. Just, possible.* 

From there, the creeping words slithered backwards, and as the Thalmor walked through the streets back to the embassy, Salen would see no evidence of Varis. At least, not in the streets. He had disappeared into them like a ghost.