"Ah, a wise choice," Ri'saad seems to purr lazily. "And for you, friends, merely eight septims."

"Don't be ridiculous," Felix says promptly, clearly waiting to say it. His tone is light, cheerfully scolding. "Six is fair, you fluffy-maned scoundrel."

"I have told you before, our wares come with guarantees you will not find elsewhere." The Khajiit blinks up at him. "Guarantees for which you also pay."

"Of course. They wouldn't be worth six on their own, whatever you tell the provincials."