Despite his fur coloration, low to the ground sit-pose and silent movements, Roose got caught. Not enough deep shadow, like the woods of Home. Not low enough for the cover of tall grass (though none grew here). Quiet, yes, but his desire to peek had left him open to be spotted. Not that he minded being spotted, really, not being an assassin... though he was, indeed, something. Non-human. Non-humanoid. Bipedal, but still very ferral and wild, despite his clothing. Also quite able to move as a quadruped, when needed. If at a slight cost in grace. And, indeed, his upright stance, taller...
... though only by two inches.
Roose didn't need a moving head to tell when one pair of eyes fell on him. By this one's patterns, the fact he saw stood obvious. And this other? Being close, perhaps he could scent the young male 'Twill by the slight, musky ordor, twirled about on the scattered breeze. A scent care of the oil glands on his inner thighs, a mark of his maleness and his maturity. If only to those of his own species. Perhaps this other...
... well, he turned a look over shoulder. His eyes also obviously saw. Though, strangely, his own gaze fell a bit higher than necessary, as if he thought what he'd seen was perched in the tree, not sat on the ground at its roots. Then he called... up. Soft and calm, yes. Perhaps his eyes had caught the movement of leaves, and suffered distraction?
Not that this mattered....
The magic and the music had been broken, so Roose no longer had a reason to stay behind the aged oak. So...
... "Down here...."
His own voice was calm, but not soft. Accented. Alien. Not harsh, either, though it did carry a bit of rummble along with its slight chirpiness. Roose actually had quite a good singing voice. Though at present, his sit had become a four legged step and stretch, a wide and toothy yawn, pale green tongue curled, all to relieve the loose relaxation from his muscles, so proper active tension would return. Butt in the air, tail's tuft held high, chest and muzzled chin nearly touching what little grass there was, scattered about under this tree. Only then did he stand upright, adjust his pouchbelt and cargo shorts, tidy up his Nute... his traditional open-front vest... fingerclaws lightly and quickly groomed through his chestfur...
... "I heard music... I just wanted to listen, not interrupt."
Bright emerald eyes glanced between the two other males. Large, battish ears tweaked back and forth... side to side. All three seelers twitched, while his H'rik Eye glowed a brigher bluewhite from his forehead. Then...
... a deep bow. Deep enough to expose the line of script running down his Nute's spine, from collar to hem...
... "I am Roose, of the CityHome Hurro'Tau'ta...."
