@fatumimpera liked this for a smol starter
This certainly wasn't the Garlamald he'd heard about... they sure liked to live in squalour, that was for sure. Though if truth be told, Khum'a wasn't entirely convinced that he was even in the Garlean stronghold, but with the presence of such technologies he'd seen thus far, the way the people were dressed, the trains...? He was struggling to comprehend where else he could possibly even be.
Still, his being here still didn't explain why he'd turned up utterly naked (Or even how?! Not that this was the first time he'd been thrust into the unknown, though all those other times he'd at least been allowed to keep his clothes!) and forced to cloak his entire form with the discarded tarp he'd found near the entrance of this place. A literal slum if he'd ever known one.
The cloak was enough to cover his ears and his tail; at least at first glance, he could very well pass as a hyur, or even a small Garlean, though a homeless one at that. At least if they didn't stare at his face too long or ask him to speak.
So far so good, where not too many people were paying him much mind as he trudged, barefoot, through the muddy streets, just attempting to gain a bearing of the place... but boy, was he hungry. His stomach protested against the gaping void of emptiness, enough to be a little uncomfortable enough to have him cling a little tighter to his makeshift cloak.
He needed money, fast. And as if by the design of the Twelve, does he spy a victim.
Standing confident with what looked like a large claymore nestled between the shoulders, Khum'a knew a Soldier of Fortune when he spied one. And Soldier's of Fortune often carried money!
He keeps an eye on the blonde shifting his way through the crowd towards him, Khum'a dancing his way into the supposed mercinaries path before inevitably bumping shoulders with him, hard! Enough to maybe even make the other blond stagger a little, enough to cause a little commotion either way, and as the miqo'te righted himself he would even dare to shoot the man a filthy look and snarl:
"Hey! Watch it, you boar's arse! I'm tryna walk here!" before switly turning to hide the triumphant grin as he tosses that plump coin purse in his hand.
"Heh, yoink, loser~" he murmured to himself then, and slipped so effortlessly into the rabble.