(no subject)

It's been... a very long time since the goings-on here have captured his attention. Then again, he's good at feigning disinterest. You're cool, Cloud told him more than once, and he knows that means he shows a marked lack of caring. He told Cloud -- not the one who used to be here, the one back on the Planet -- that he supposed that was right. That he didn't particularly care, that he would never particularly go out of his way to assist someone. All it proved, ultimately, is that he... is a very poor liar. He did, after all, get the phone.

Up here in his tree, he waits and sits and watches and as good as he is at feigning disinterest, he's even better at staying still. He's had the training; decades shut in a coffin will do that to a person. During that... blackness, the simplest of movements was something to be savored. It trained him, honed his hearing, his reflexes and now as he looks down from his spot in the leaf-covered tree, the lake shimmering in the near distance, this place seems quiet and deserted but isn't. A woman, tiny and slender and with long yellow hair, makes her way from the stable out onto the lawn. He's seen her before, many times before: morning and evening, like clockwork, but... well, far be it for him to disturb anyone.

He's patient to a fault. Still, this evening as he perches on the branch of the tree, unmoving except for the long black hair and ever-present cloak rippling in the breeze, he offers up a single word from his bird's-eye-view vantage point.

"Hello."

It's more than he gives most people.