Kiaane stares at the cricket, their furrowed eyebrows actually implying an expression for once. That expression is concern. They seem a bit concerned.
The mercenary bends over a little, leaning against the counter, continuing their concerned look. 
On one of its rounds, the cricket slides right into the left cheek of Kiaane's face. It bounces off, unperturbed, and goes the other way again.
Wheee!

At some point, the little cricket stops momentarily and twitches its antennae at him.