"How many seats does your truck have?" Viola's flat voice comes. The thought of brushing shoulders and ending up in a middle seat because of her less then impressive stature. She'd fucking walk.
Dead eyes turn to Iseult.
On four legs.
She'd much rather be wearing fur right now.
"If you don't have the room. We," head cocking to the Suthar Anzuth. Though those dead and predatory eyes dart to and away from, Kid. "Could met the rest of you there."