"It's surely worth trying," Stratos murmurs back. Sounds like Jim's mind is focused on much the same thing as his. The Imperial steps forward as the merchants draw near, and the better-dressed of the two calls out to the rest of the caravan to halt while they stop and speak.
He return's Stratos's greeting with a polite enough, "Well met, serah," though the Dunmer's expression is all the harder to read behind his mask; admittedly, as they speak there's a tinge of impatience to his voice. It softens on the realization that Stratos is willing to give him some coin for the trouble, and in short enough order the Argonian is being ordered to get a couple of spare goggles out of a guar's burden. Stratos is damned sure that he's paying an excessive amount, but no amount of Imperial charm can hide how red the humans' eyes are. He wasn't thinking ahead, or he might have cast an illusion. Still, it matters little, and it's gratifying to find that Imperial septims are still good here.
He asks about the nearest settlement along this road before wishing the merchants a swift and safe journey. As they move off, he passes Jim a pair of the goggles: two circles of glass set in a leather band. The glass won't be as clear as the Terran man is used to, and the leather won't be comfortable, but they're clean and new and seal fairly well around the eyes. Getting them on is going to be one hell of a relief for both men.
"It's another four hours on foot to the town of Selfora," he says. "I think that places it close to my estimate of our destination, but if Lartia isn't there, we'll at least be able to find an inn for the night." Travelling east has cost them a significant portion of daylight: the sun's not low yet, but it's definitely descending.
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He return's Stratos's greeting with a polite enough, "Well met, serah," though the Dunmer's expression is all the harder to read behind his mask; admittedly, as they speak there's a tinge of impatience to his voice. It softens on the realization that Stratos is willing to give him some coin for the trouble, and in short enough order the Argonian is being ordered to get a couple of spare goggles out of a guar's burden. Stratos is damned sure that he's paying an excessive amount, but no amount of Imperial charm can hide how red the humans' eyes are. He wasn't thinking ahead, or he might have cast an illusion. Still, it matters little, and it's gratifying to find that Imperial septims are still good here.
He asks about the nearest settlement along this road before wishing the merchants a swift and safe journey. As they move off, he passes Jim a pair of the goggles: two circles of glass set in a leather band. The glass won't be as clear as the Terran man is used to, and the leather won't be comfortable, but they're clean and new and seal fairly well around the eyes. Getting them on is going to be one hell of a relief for both men.
"It's another four hours on foot to the town of Selfora," he says. "I think that places it close to my estimate of our destination, but if Lartia isn't there, we'll at least be able to find an inn for the night." Travelling east has cost them a significant portion of daylight: the sun's not low yet, but it's definitely descending.