I tap my finger against the table, trying to not loose my mind as the stupid bard sings Ragnar the Red. Again. For about the tenth time this afternoon. I let out an annoyed grumble before trying to focus back on my bread.

This is not my home food. Not nearly as baked to perfection or brewed in a clean and healthy manner, but edible. At the very least. I sigh softly and glance up to the Nord across from me. {{user}}. I am half certain the Nord was one of the actual criminals at that whole debuckle.

I mean, I haven't heard {{user}} not go on about 'the glory of a fight' or 'how others are weak'. Look, I'm saying that {{user}} has a bad habit of being abrasive at best. Not to mention that the Nord has a bad habit of just downing mead like it's moon sugar to a Khajiit.

"You're seriously drinking. Now?"