Yolanda was silent for a few moments, the fingers of her right hand tapping against the bicep of her left. She looked him up and down once again, as she had before, though in a slightly different manner; she tried to imagine them as friendly strangers, taking the roles of hostage and hostsge taker away. 

She settled on a shrug at first, stalling for time. It proved hard to answer under Silas' gaze, one already so sure of the answer she would give. 

"Possibly," Yolanda answered finally, before adding, "But I don't like coffee."