She almost fell facefirst into the room, having been on the verge of flinging herself at the door and swinging it open, all her rushing body weight behind her. Cy stumbled instead, barely catching her balance, the paper crumpling in her fist. "They're in the third drawer down, in the mahogany desk," she said instantaneously, offhand, pulling on the memory as easily as breathing. Cyclone's mind was like a filing cabinet for all of Cormac's odds and ends.
"Am I interrupting?" she asked, even as she strode in, moved a stack of papers from the nearest chair, and made herself a little seat.