Geel smirked slightly to himself. Either it's a play, or the man is not certain of who I am. From where I come from, I doubt anything anyone has to say of me is good. Let's guide you in the wrong direction then.
Placing a frown upon his brow, he said "Who am I? Ebee-Lai, mage from Riften. Pleased to meet you." He looked the man square in the eyes, determined to pull off his ploy. Can't afford another threat in the accursed place... Let him see my eyes, the eyes I never had before. The eyes once blinded by my own stupidity. Let him think I am not the man he is looking for, not the blind, constantly high, fool of a argonian.
He saw Derath raise his eyebrows at his lie, almost giving him away. Geel slid his clawed foot across the table bottom to poke the boy meaningfully. Shhh Derath.....
But to no avail. Geel saw Lyle's eyes slit, turning as dangerous as the pits of hell. Dammit, he knows.... How? How is he sure who I am? Perhaps he found the wrong person? But Geel knew it was not so. The intensity of those searching eyes, how well prepared he was for battle...
And the lingering smell of skooma.
Geel's eyes widened slightly, a slight cough escaping him. So that's how he knew him... Tall, lean and battle-worn, Geel had originally thought perhaps a hired thug, taking him out for the suspected murder of Farengar. Yes, he had heard how they gossiped about that murder, how they assumed that the argonian was the killer of the boss he was so loyal to. Perhaps a relative of Farengar believed so, sending someone to take revenge.
But now he knew he was not. This time, it was not his new found sight that helped him find the answer. The more he put it together, the more he realized who the man was. That smell of upturned soil, the soft chiming clink of his weapon. Very similar... and then he smelt the smell of the drug he had come to loathe. Remembered.
Geel struggled to fight off the lust for the drug, his words slightly strained. Though Derath had cured him, he still left behind memories, senses. The addiction, though far duller than before, still hid in the crevices of his mind. Waiting to be free. To meet someone so haunting of his past...Not to mention so deadly.
"For 250 septims, I am your man for two weeks." Geel jumped slightly, so preoccupied on his situation that he had not seen the man. Damn... I'm getting complacent. Should have heard the man. He watched the mercenary's sword display, the blade whistling through the air like an arrow. It seemed glimmer with a dangerous blue, as if eager to swallow up the victims it hacks to death.
Now's my chance. Geel saw the opportunity, and used it to his advantage. "Well then, Sellsword. I see how pretty you look with your sword, but how good are you dealing with an actual situation? That fur-face, khajiit over there, is bothering us. Perhaps you would like to prove your talents by showing the man out? "
