[Undercover]

Cobalt strode carefully between two garbage bins. His ragged grey and brown pelt was littered with dirt. Pausing to lick a piece off his chest, The tom took the moment to see who, if anyone, was near. Immedietly, two scents bathed the rogue's tongue. Turning to the direction the scents had wafted from, he leaped up into a tall Sycamore tree. Climbing high enough to see far, Cobalt spotted the two she-cats.
Carefully stepping onto a rooftop just beside him, (the branch overhung the house) he curled his tail around his dusky grey paws and promptly called out, "Hello!" The beguiling youthful tom, twenty-four moons, to be exact, enjoyed teasing and impressing young, timid kittypets; it was a favorite past-time of his. Sometimes, he even had actual conversations with some of them.

He Walks
He Talks
He Thinks