[ Eventually pulls his hands out of the ground, letting them fall in his lap, dirty and uncomfortable. Eventually, the hair on the back of his neck stands up, gives him a sense of eyes on him, and he grits his teeth.
He turns quickly, hands sporting claws in case he needs them -- and stops short, when he sees who it is. ]
What are you doing here? [ Clearly trying for accusing, but unable to find the energy. It just comes out dull. ]