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"Put down my drink, and get out of my chair before you get hurt."

Despite being an Imperial himself, Vincento had spent years amongst the Nords. He knew their ways and customs. Now though, with the civil war still weighing on everyone's hearts and minds he wondered if it was time to pick a side.

He'd found his tankard in the hands of someone else upon returning to the bar. This annoyed him, and no matter who it was, they would learn not to touch what wasn't theirs.