Well, well, well, look who failed his perception check.

Deon jumps, claws digging into the branch when he lands, his robot hand clutching it so hard the wood splinters. His caracal ears and the emotive robot antennae where human ears would be are standing straight up at attention, and his glasses are askew. He adjusts them back onto his nose, his tail lashing aggressively, as he glares at the hovering Illithid.

"Do you mind?" he hisses. "I'm trying to catch that dirt fellow!"