Turns out, it ain't his eyes what help him hear. His ears flick as he catches that noise. He can't sort out the voice from just that alone, but he thinks he hears that at least. Maybe. He can't miss them rustling leaves though neither motherfucking way. Avox or not, one never forgets being a trained laughsassin, just as no other trolls forgets the laughsassins.

The trouble is whether he can be one.

He's got the quiet down. His steps hardly made sound before he was an Avox they sure as shit don't make on it now. Many noises unintended bring about wincing unless he's in the exact right mind state for it all to be making happenstance. That isn't too often. Noises what come intended are even less.

First he's got to determine what he can do, then he needs to figure out what he should. He ain't armed but he can take a few hits significant and heal from them. Attack should be too big of a threat but he didn't want to bring something dangerous back to the hovercraft either. On the flip side, he might well scare whoever it is off, assuming it ain't a what.

He breathes deep, offers up the tiniest of prayers with a plea of forgiveness for his absences, and hope that will grant him whatever he needs to slip through this brush. He finds himself marvelling just a bit at how he ain't been outside in a long ass while and it's real nice just to feel the texture of shit like leaves and bark. To see colors like green...

Or red and blue.