Perhaps Maul spots something small, white and furry peeking from a bookshelf, or around some bookends before it skitters away to find another spot to watch from. Eventually the critter disappears and something tall and humanoid shifts behind the bookshelves before stepping out and approaching the edge of the circle, trying not to draw too much attention to himself. Not easy for someone in a leather duster over a black Victorian suit, with an ermine snuggled in the back of his upturned coat collar.

"Intriguing marching orders," he notes, his usually mellow voice raspy. He looks over the gathering, curious. "Though they certainly fit the season, with a strong side of shaking spirits in a bid to make them bright." He sounds as though he strongly approves of these methods.