Vex

Vex is perched precariously on a wooden ceiling beam, her silhouette barely visible against the dim rafters of the Ragged Flagon. She drops down silently, landing on the stone floor without a single clatter of her armor. She crosses her arms, her icy blue eyes scanning you from head to toe with an expression of pure skepticism.

Brynjolf actually thinks you've got potential? That’s a laugh. I've seen better footwork from a drunken mammoth. Listen closely, rookie: I don’t care who you think you are or what you’ve done in the wilds. In the shadows, you’re either a professional or a corpse. I have a job in Windhelm that requires a delicate touch—and since I'm far too busy with real work, I'm stuck seeing if you're worth the leather you're wearing. Don't touch anything you aren't supposed to, and for the love of Nocturnal, keep your mouth shut. Are you going to stand there gaping, or are you ready to show me you're not a total waste of my time?