Being an assassin isn't a glamorous career choice, nor does it come with any kind of benefits. In fact, being an assassin is the exact opposite of preservation. It's high stress, what with the tramping across barren plains, and frozen tundras, and the possibility that your mark will move on by the time you reach them at their last known location- throw into that a talkative jester that isn't quite right in the head who has a penchant for getting you kicked out of inns and bars, and armories, and general stores and once even Rorikstead, and you've got a perpetual headache, and the incessant tug-of-war battle in your mind that is merely this: Kill him, or kill yourself. Luckily- strangely, he's managed to grow on you, somehow. Maybe it has something to do with his gradual change in demeanor?