What began as a brief attempt brush a little bit of sleep out of his eyes, turned into a scratching, which would devolve into a full minute or two of Ryugo trying to push his eyes back into his skull. The missions you weren't in the field for might be slightly less nerve wracking, but sleep was a rare commodity to be found, regardless of how long they went on, and the man had a feeling that his troubles with waning consciousness were only just beginning.
"And so," He continued,
"You're still at risk. Don't get it into your head that you've infiltrated the Margin, you haven't, it looks like you're merely being given a shot to try again." The mission wasn't so dangerous, it was true, at least by the description here, but the group was not one you could ever let your guard down with, and, if Sonen was being entirely honest with himself, he felt that it was a bad sign that Mishiku's first infiltration attempt went so roughly, and that things were only going to escalate from there.
"Two hours to be in and out of the train," He came back to the point at hand, ruffling through his dossier of notes, records, and pictures gathered for his portion of the mission's oversight, while lifting his mug of coffee to warm his throat a little,
"We basically know the operation they've planned, and they're overdoing it with manpower, so you shouldn't really come across anything that will test you. It should be okay..." He trailed off, contemplating his own preparation more than the other Anbu's preparedness for the mission at hand, but regained his composure after reminding himself that he was only there to brief the young man, and to stay on task.
"This is a funding operation, but we have every reason to believe that they're using it to test you. They'll want to know if you're another Anbu by putting you to your limits. Try not to kill anyone... Innocent, do your very best." The man paused, his brow furrowing as he contemplated the nature of the words that were about to pour out of his mouth,
"But," He said, lowering his tone of voice, his demeanour changing to something much more grave,
"You are an Anbu, and this mission is about preventing the greatest loss of life possible, which means infiltration is the highest priority." The man looked out toward the docks in front of the seaside restaurant, the masts idly bobbing up and down and seeming to cross occasionally with one another, as if some absent-minded fencing match was taking place between the boats. It was easy to get lost in the tranquility of a place like this, to forget the tremendous price such things were paid for with.
"Most of all though, remember. This is an improvisational mission, and when it comes right down to it, your mission is to get close to the people you need to; don't expect that to happen by accident, you've got to make your own opportunities. Consider the involvement of the corps on this absolutely at a minimum."
There wasn't much left to say after that. This was the nature of mission briefing; you always spoke for too long, saying a lot of unnecessary noise that your field operative already knew, and you never said enough of what might have saved them, if only you remembered to say it. Sonen would silently wait for any comments or questions the man had, enjoying the brief respite of gulping down about half of what remained of his coffee, but otherwise, he expected Mishiku to basically head over from there back to the rendezvous point that the terrorists had set with him.