Oliver sat in his usual spot on the couch, a steaming cup of coffee on the side table beside him currently being ignored in trade for both hands offering attention to the giant orange cat currently monopolizing the entirety of his lap.
"It's hard to say how smart they are," he offered after marinating on it for a second. "I've only ever seen the ones from last night, but as far as I've seen the only real tactics they've shown have been retreatin' when things got a little too dicey, and the splitting thing. It seems like all the times where people have run into 'em...they were huntin' like an animal. Sounds, or smells, or sight. If they were smarter I assume they'd be tryin' things like...baitin' us. Lurin' us somewhere." He didn't really want to think about any of that, though.