The movement isn't lost on him. For all his attention to the words being spoken and the voices that carry them in this shallow den, Yamata's senses are as sharp as the blade he carries at his side and his guard quietly held not for fear, but years of training that have ingrained and honed the nature of his composure finely into him. He reads well what he hears, what he feels. Flares in temper, in malignant intent are detected as quickly as they appear, but one would scarcely think it for his lack of movement, the steadiness of his expression. It's seldom directed at him. When it is, without the appropriate action to support it, he doesn't move or acknowledge it any detectable way. That the originator of such marked intent would choose to sit by him at the bar, however, is enough to warrant further attention.

It's the unspoken sort, initially, acute senses sharpened and guard raised a fraction higher in that same unspoken way. His fingers find the sake delivered to him, but he doesn't drink. Filtered words and standing presence has given him enough to make his move in comfort, but this one factor is an unexpected one that draws his eyes after a moment and is that much more unexpected for the sight that greets him. A woman? And one who matches the description Kouran gave him. His gaze lingers a moment, trying to match the face to the one he's kept close in his memory. Big, fluffy pigtails, eyes just as large and dark, a fair complexion, and... a carrot in her mouth, of course, cheeks that pudge-pudge-pudge up like -- ah, but they never got so big as to change color. His rabbit had much better manners than that. Time wouldn't change that, but it would change other things.

He turns his eyes to the bar again, to the sake before him now. It's possible, a quiet admittance that resounds in his mind's ears and affects him in small, imperceptible ways. A briefly quickening pulse, the skipping of a heartbeat. They aren't so small where it concerns him, but again, imperceptible things. His visible tells are small things, the way he pauses, the slightness of the angle at which his head has tipped, and his mind is racing. It's possible. It's possible that after four years of searching, eighteen years' separation, he's found her at last and there's something of a warm excitement for it buried beneath the layers of cold. It stirs and he quickly attempts to rein it in. This isn't the place and it isn't guaranteed. To ascertain that, it would be best to go elsewhere, somewhere more private, devoid of prying eyes and ears, but especially considering what he sensed earlier.

"Tch," is the first thing out of his mouth, albeit a softer utterance than usual. "Is the moon half empty or half full? You can barely see it for the clouds."

But a rabbit would know. A rabbit who resides on the moon and is familiar with the princess Kaguya would surely know when conditions would be best for her lady to descend. Is she such a rabbit? He wonders. He... hopes.