<div class="floatright">(http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2013/025/3/c/__the_mage___by_thousandleaves-d5so483.png)</div><strong>Name:</strong>Jo'Shaar Zahir<br/><strong>Location:</strong>White Run; Bannered Mare<br/><strong>Time:</strong>Mid Morning<br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Open, Lucretia<br/><br/>Casting a look at the Imperial once he had his drink, Jo'Shaar took a small sip of the mead while thinking. She seemed to be a newcomer, by her own words and her question, and did not mean anything bad with her curiosity. Lowering his voice, the Khajiit decided to answer her in a calm voice while casting a brief glance at their bartender.<strong>"This one thinks its fine to say, but not everyone likes being reminded. Skyrim has two heirs, born to same woman, but different sire. One for Dragonborn, one for High King. This one thinks, people drink to be merry, not think of trouble. Trouble like which Heir to follow."</strong><br/><br/>Returning his attention to his mug, the Khajiit sipped on the mead again while closing his eyes, an ear twitching slightly as he inhaled the scent of the mead in his mug. Smile on his face, the feline tilted the mug slightly to take a longer sip, just as a hand slapped on his shoulder.<strong>"Beat it, cat, you got your drink now make room for the others."</strong>Smirking and looking at the Khajiit was a copper-haired man with a furry vest over the hairy, strong chest as well as a smell of too much mead for one night already. The sight didn't exactly impress Jo'Shaar though.<br/><br/><strong>"This one thinks the bar is wide enough for all, and more fun is had with a cup in hand than hand in fist."</strong>He sipped on his mead again while raising another hand to push the Nord's fingers off his shoulder, earning a glare from the nord, though refusing to even give the Nord a look back yet. Jo'Shaar didn't exactly like bullies, though he preferred to be polite and accept some comments this drunken oaf wasn't someone he felt like respecting right now. Maybe the man was fine when sober, but drunk, that kind of behaviour stunk worse than his breath.<br/><br/><strong>"Oh? There's room but you're taking up the best seat, cat, now move it or-"</strong>Stepping down on the Khajiit's tale in his drunken staggering the man caused Jo'Shaar to jump up and hiss, glaring back at the man and pointing down, the sudden move causing the man to take a step back in surprise at least.<strong>"Stomping on tails, what a cheap trick. This one would like to remind the man that kitties have claws."</strong>His tone was serious, though he turned to take up his mug again, frowning.<br/><br/><strong>"Don't really care, cat, a place next to a woman belongs to a man, not a house-pet!"</strong>Jo'Shaar grit his teeth together, casting a look at Lucretia and speaking in a polite tone. His smile a warm one, but at the same time a bit resigned.<strong>"This one wishes for a good day, unless Jo'Shaar wants to start a barfight though, this Khajiit has to move now."</strong>He held his mug and turned to go, just as the nord laughed and shoved the Khajiit in the back.<strong>"Yeah you better run!"</strong><br/><br/>That was the last straw though, and Jo'Shaar turned around growling and gulping down the rest of his mead before dropping his mug, closing both of his hands into fists. No clawing the eyes out in a bar-brawl, no matter how much of a buffoon someone might be. Claws were for when you had to kill someone, and Jo'Shaar knew better than to piss off every Nord in the room by killing one. Of course, there was only so far he would go in the name of keeping peace. Like a Nord, he also had his pride.