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Kiffar had been, for lack of a better descriptor, catatonic for several minutes now. In the way of orange cats everywhere, he had picked a random shadow to stare at, and promptly become vacant of all thought and expression, save the occasional flicker of his tail. As a result, he missed the majority of conversation in the time since he had seated himself, stirring only once the authoritative shouts of the approaching Blades became audible. That, at least, was enough to make him blink a few times, seeming to return to the present from whatever abyss had borrowed his attention as they were all herded to the sides, and issued instructions. He found himself pressed to the wall at the rear, just beside the opening tunnel, and thankfully without squishing anybody else between himself and the wall. 

It took him a few moments to process and mentally catch up with the goings on, but soon enough, he dipped into what fraction of a bow he could manage while crowded back against the wall, fingers brushing his chest, icy eyes locked on the Emperor and his escort. He was familiar with them, in passing- vague memories of time spent guarding the talks between Emperor and Mane, before things had gone so wrong.

[color=f7941d]"Mane-of-Men, this one is pleased you still breathe. Kiffar thanks you for this pardon. He regrets that he is no longer worthy of offering service to the Mane-of-Men, but Kiffar will gladly make clear the tunnel's exit for him. Come, Elfling. Witch-woman, Darmon-Thing, and the fancy man-thing should come, too. Maybe the lizard-things, yes yes. We will go take fresh air and give hands to things that may lurk and skulk beyond. As a favor for the pardoning, yes? Then maybe come back for Kiffar's things from the things-box. Kiffar likes those things."[/color]

He seemed to have little interest in hanging around to see if the others followed his presumed lead- indeed, his words were muffled by the time he was half done speaking, as the massive Khajiit ducked down and started his way down the passage opened at the back of the cell. On the bright side, he made an excellent duster on the way, with his shoulders brushing the walls and his head the ceiling, clearing the tunnel of cobwebs by simple virtue of walking through it ahead of everybody else. If the tight space bothered him, he didn't let it show- or at the very least, he seemed determined to resolve the problem by getting to the other end with expediency, moving briskly and stalling for nothing. He'd find the exit soon enough. Hopefully. Probably. If it wasn't locked.