Juggles sat there shaking his head, smiling. See, now this is a clear example as to why you all down here should go topside more often than you do. Get some fresh air, some sunshine should help clear those muddled brains of yours.
He took a healthy swig of his ale before proceeding. Really? You all are blaming me for just about everything that's happened to her? For your information, when she and I bumped into each other that started this whole alliance, as well as relationship, she already had those horrible scars and Westley was already dead. So how you all blame me for that is f***ing beyond me.
Glancing at the picture of himself, he just snorted. Ah, this again. Look at the picture, Delvin. Is it just me, or do I see just an illustration of myself? Nowhere on the paper does it say, Wanted: Dead or Alive 5,000 Septims. Does it? No, it doesn't, he answered his own question.
He looked at Delvin, then drained the rest of his ale. I find it somewhat laughable that a harmless woman has the big, bad Dark Brotherhood as well as the equally big, bad Thieves Guild running around with their heads up their asses. He nodded at the thief before continuing, By Nocturnal, man, she doesn't even know I'm an assassin and I always keep a low profile on my hits. Sure, she's waving that damn picture all over Skyrim, but do you truly believe that all who see it think I'm with the Brotherhood? Give me a f***ing break. People see that and they think, "Oh, poor girl must be searching for her lost brother, or her lost husband, or whatever.
Juggles stood to leave. Sorry. She was angry, I was angry. If she did say anything to me before coming here, I don't recall. He fished around in his pockets and brought out a pair of Septims, placing them on the bar. You don't wanna tell me where she is? Fine. Guess I'll take leave of your "turf" as I'm not about to waste any more of your time, but more importantly, my time.