Briefing and questioning. Yvah's favorite. When she used to be out on the prowl, she'd always let the shorties speak for the group. They always had a way with words, and with the people they were having words with. She mostly kept her mouth shut unless someone was asking for a display of force. That, she was decent at. Sneaking and sniffing, however, was what she was great at. And punching. And sneak-punching. Stabbing too, but that got messy. 

While considering all of this, Yvah spent her time idly pacing about the back end of the office room, sipping her tea absently. Sometimes little snippets of information graced her delicate, furred ears, but for the most part she drifted across the sidelines of the conversation never the wiser. It didn't quite bore her, not in the yawny, 'I might as well nap,' sort of boredom. She was getting antsy and, as it was always her curse, impatient. By the time the general complimented their haste in the party's duties, Yvah blurted, "Yes, haste, on to the next place -- Sorry for the rhyme -- We should be doing stuff -- Interrogation stuff -- The fun, nice kind, of course -- Fun, nice interrogation with tiny Pilly -- With a discount! -- We should be off on that, then -- It was great to meet you, Mr General -- Bye!" The whole thing came out in a rapid-fire barrage of syllables that hardly cohered into a viable message. Immediately following this, Yvah slipped through the door and silently shut it behind her.