It's raining pretty hard. The awnings have been deployed over the main thoroughfares, where people might be nyooming fast enough for hydroplaning to be an issue, but on the side streets that wouldn't comprise the majority of any journey taken at speed there aren't any awnings, and there definitely aren't in alleys with the trash bins and spare mop bucket and extra folding chairs belonging to a fried dough joint. The toasty sweet smells of the dough and all the toppings leak out a little into the alley, but mostly it smells like trash bins and mop bucket and rain.
It doesn't seem to find these phonemes very interesting; it makes little noises as he talks but doesn't repeat anything.
It reaches up and grabs the cage's ceiling with all six limbs, dangles down, and swings itself back and forth, with occasional whistles and hisses.
It will keep doing that for a while, then poke at the cage door futilely, and go back to resting on the floor.
The most interesting part of this sentence is the sigh! It will experiment with a few descending tones while settled down.
...it's very cute. He makes sure he has his gloves handy and knows where the catchpole is, and he opens the cage.
In somewhat less of a rush than last time, it climbs out and on top of its cage! What else is in reach?
So many things! It whistles something that might be recognizable from the earlier singing session and tries hanging a tentacle off the blinds, but pulls away when they bend down, then rummages something out of the box.
This one gets a tentacle wiggled through its crevices, … sniffing? Yep, sniffing. After no actual food is found it goes back in the box. Next!
The next one is a weighted gourd-shaped object that will stay up on its fatter end even if shoved!
The creature will demonstrate some of its six-part vocal repertoire during some of this. Eventually it decides to check out more of the room. What's that fellow creature over in that cage?
The creature leaps back and scurries — almost cartwheels — back to where it left the tippy toy. It looks up at the human while keeping another eye on the owl.
The owl resumes eating its rat grumpily.
"Whoa there, he's in a cage, he's not gonna hurt you," says Pavo, "unless you stick a - tentacle in there."
These words seem at least soothing if not communicative to it. It bats the toy around a bit, and then climbs up calmly for another look in the box of toys.