Yvah remained silent during the retreat. The dematerializing mass of flesh and plant matter never tainted her vision as she kept her eyes directly forward, unwavering, away from the gruesome remains. Just trying to act as if it never happened. 

They pushed on, quickly reaching the floor hatch they had entered through. She helped the others pull the fattened sack of coin over the stairs, the metals inside jangling together with each rough tug. And once everyone had come up to pile into the small study room, they pushed open the door to show armored personnel waiting expectantly in the main entrance, staring at the packed room of misfits. 

Yvah's face immediately flattened, her ears angling down until a straight line could be drawn from tip to tip over her head. Knights always have to complicate things, don't they? Yvah went for a backup plan. She reached to her back, playing off the sudden awkwardness by motioning as if to scratch herself. A pick slipped between her fingers, silently transferred up her sleeve. Quickly and smoothly. 

While the cherry-haired knight continued on her speach, something Yvah saw all too often with these officers, the feline huntress stepped out into the open. Her hands remained visible and away from her sides to show no obvious signs of threat. "If we go," she said, then nodding her head toward her staff over the shoulder, "can I keep my stick?"