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The black-eyed Auri stared down at the Lalafellin that was currently up at him. He could easily slice this worm in half with a single swing with the way he was smirking up at him. Smart-assed little buggger.
"I can't do nothin' with tha' table knife ye got there," the Lalafell proclaimed. "It's better off in a large pit o' fire, if ye ask me."
"It's not a table knife," shot back one Tamarin Dotharl, temper quickly reaching boiking point. "It's a battle axe, and I want that new one in exchange for this old one. It's close to breaking and won't do any good against anything past Summerford. Now, what's your price?"
The shopkeep crosses his arms. "Look, buddy. Ye can't pawn that off and expect ta get anythin' worth a lick o' salt. Why don't ya come back when ya got somethin' of value, huh?"
Tamarin felt his fingers twitch at the thought of strangling this worm that had the audacity to refuse a weapon. He leaned forward and cast a sinister shadow over the Lala. "Look here, pal. This might be a table knife to you but I can damn sure guarantee that it'll cut you in half like nothing. In fact, it can probably saw you in half in the most painful way possible. Now, do we have a deal?"
"There a problem here, men?"
The two looked up to see a hulking Roe staring at Tamarin and the shopkeep, eyeing them and slowly reaching for his axe. Tamarin stood up straight and took a deep breath. He could not--and would not--be kicked out of Limsa Lominsa before completing his training because of his temper. Slowly, he turned to shoot a glare towards the Lalafell and walked away but not before uttering a "I'll be back for you" and walking off.
He would get that axe. Even if a couple of bruises formed as a result. But for now, a drink.