"Khajier is now bored." He had said to himself what seemed like two hours ago though he really had no idea how long he had been surveying the front gates, watching passerby by passerby go in and come out. He even noticed two unusual-looking beings enter Helgen. Wait, only two? Khajier knew now he had taken a light Khajiit nap now as his sense of smell told of more than two, for what it was worth anyways.<br/><br/>"Khajier has grown thirsty and a tad bit hungry." He said before slipping out from behind the rock he was hiding behind and scaling down the steep slope to the ground before walking inside the gates. He pulled his hood over his face what little more he could so that at least his eyes were hidden from public view as he headed for Trygg's Inn. Walking right inside he saw a reunion of sorts going on at the front counter. Shaking his head once he found himself an empty table nestled off in a corner, the only one not surrounded by Imperials or whatever else was there tonight. Khajier checked his coin purse to see how much he had on him. He had around fifty Septims left. Joy, that will get him a couple drinks long as he didn't go for the most expensive mead and a decent-sized meal. Once someone did get around to coming over to him he made his order and set the cost at the end of the table, a few extra as a tip then he went about looking the place over and making notes of the diversity. He was fine with the Bretons, Bosmer, Nords, and the Imperial soldiers whom he despised so much but it was when his eyes laid upon a rather tall and drunken Argonian that he looked down at the table and hid his tail right behind him up against the wall.<br/><br/>Great. Just what Khajier wanted to run into... Again.<br/><em>Why... Am I ill-fated?</em>He thought to himself praying to the Nine that even if the Argonian did smell him he'd leave Khajier alone. Being overly cautious as always Khajier rested his right paw on the hilt of his dagger. He saw nothing wrong with being prepared for the inevitable even if he did notice a Dunmer among the mix ordering a Juniper mead -- a famous best he had only heard of from Riften at The Bee and the Barb.<br/>At last his meal arrived. A flagon of Nord mead and a plate of bread and venison. Once he was alone again he went about eating with his left paw, his right still lightly gripping his ebony dagger and still silently praying to the Nine he'd be able to enjoy a meal without some sort of altercation.