Once again, Mougin's attention was taken up by differences. One familiar face nearby, and another unfamiliar face. But why only 3 workers? Compared to the immense scale of the docks, their work was tiny. Furthermore, the security was stronger. The dock didn't have much security, and they just sort of let Mougin through when he said he was looking for work. The security for this operation was clearly much more thorough.

The minotaur stared at the guard. His clothes were thicker, and he was holding something. Armour and a weapon, presumeably. He didn't know what armour or weapon though, because he was never interested. Beastmen tended to rely on magic and their own bodies, so he didn't even know where to start with what the guard was wearing. Regardless of how protective the armour was, surely the absence of head protection would pose its own challenges? 

What, the weapon? What about the weapon? He didn't know a single thing about human weapons. [color=005426][i][b]Real men only use their fists[/b][/i][/color], or so his father had told him. Although, Mougin didn't really agree with that...

The brown furred minotaur snapped out of his reverie as instructions were yelled. Right, work. Perhaps the exhaustion was getting to him. He quickly got back into the groove, picking up boxes and handing them down to the forklifts. When there were no forklifts he moved them himself, drawing a little strength from the earth to alleviate the burden. The work was somewhat easier than this afternoon's, so he had a little more strength to spare. He paused whilst holding a crate and scanned the area, wondering how his fellow workers were doing.