He isn't. Years of skulking around houses that aren't his have taught him how to make his footfalls as quiet as a cat's, and even if he didn't have have powers of dubious origin Daud is certainly a man of many secrets.

He approaches the sill until he's about a yard away from both window and child, hands clasped behind his back. Once, in better days, it might have made him look commanding; not it just makes him look tired.

"Do you live here?"

He's out of practice addressing people without the power to snatch themselves out of harm's way if he startles them into dropping off of a perch. Sorry, Frisk.