Yolanda tapped the tips of her fingers against her thigh as they moved from her other arm - something of a nervous habit. She had already assigned a type to Silas; one that charmed the ladies, got what he wanted, then left with a 'don't call me, I'll call you'. That was the type she despised, and she was almost thankful that she had the opportunity to get to know him as she had and potentially avoided a mistake. 

She set the man with a rather cold and analytical look, more akin to a detached scientist than one engaged in an obvious flirting exchange. 

"It all depends on how well you can cook," Yolanda responded, her fingers halting their tapping. "But I do hope that it would be a clean affair - I have no problem with breaking a nose."