D'jinn opened the door the the bar, bringing with her a freezing wind full of snowflakes. She quickly shut the door and shivered, drawing her cloak closely around her. Many Dunmer sat at various tables and at the bar, drinking away the pain of the prejudice they faced in the city. A few glared at the Khajit as she entered. A beast-woman, entering THEIR club? D'jinn's ears flattened against her head with embarrassment and agitation, until the Dunmer turned away from her and returned to their drinks and conversation. She approached the bar and sat down, and Ambarys Rendar spoke to her.

"You look cold, traveler." She said. "What can I get you?" D'jinn looked upon the many bottles of mead and wine behind the bartender, then made her decision. "D'jinn would like a glass of your finest red, please. Something strong." The dark elf opened a half-empty bottle and poured a glass for the Khajit. "On second thought," uttered D'jinn wearily. "D'jinn would like that entire bottle."

"Very well," said the bartender. "That will be 12 septims." D'jinn reached into her pockets and set the coins on the table. The bartender swept them up with one hand, then quickly put them in her lockbox beneath the bar, keeping a close eye on the Khajit. D'jinn knew she was suspicious; her people had a bad reputation for thievery. Perhaps later, the Khajit thought to herself. After a drink, or two. Or several.

D'jinn took a greedy swallow of wine, then began to sip it more carefully. As its warmth began to fill her, she lowered her hood and loosened her robes just a bit. It had been a long day of travel, and all she wanted was a moment to relax before returning to the many tasks she had committed herself to. The snow on her cloak began to melt, as did the icy feeling in her bones. She licked the red wine off her lips and whiskers, while another Dunmer looked on in disgust. "Cats," he practically spat at her. "Such barbaric creatures."

D'jinn's fur bristled at his comment. She growled low in her throat, her tail bristled, and her claws extended instinctively, nearly cracking the glass she held in the process. But she took a deep breath and calmed herself down. She knew she was only proving his point with such behavior. How can a race so discriminated against do the same to another? She thought to herself. D'jinn does not understand. But she remained silent and continued sipping her drink until the glass was empty, then picked up the bottle and began to drink directly out of it. Perhaps these Dunmer weren't all as rude as this one. Perhaps she could make some friends here.