She needed to get out in the fresh air and stay out, apparently. No, what she actually needed was to escape. Remove herself from everybody's radar at least for a brief period of time before she burned her own house down. Not that Madeleine lacked faith in her mother's ability to reign in the results of her daughter's temper, but she did not feel like being responsible for the deaths of herself and her mother due to falling debris or asphyxiation. Killing the neighbours was fair game, as she saw it, but she was supposed to be - 'Behaving. And this is why I came with you. Calm down before you set fire to the car.' Well, she had warned Zaviar about possible pyrotechnics should any demons turn up. 'There aren't any demons around.' "Would you like an award for that observation?"
The idea had originally been for her to take a walk in the fresh air. A short walk. Just enough to clear her head before something nearby combusted. Like Chuckie. 'Martie.' Whatever. Yet the everyday risk of being forced into interaction with a vanilla combined with even the smallest the chance of coming across a demon had nudged her towards her car. Yes, driving with the windows down qualified as getting fresh air. They had already driven around town once, with Althea coiled in the foot well on the passenger side because she did not trust her ward's temper. Half of Scarlet Oak did not necessarily deserve to burn because Madeleine was rather more highly strung than usual. Except the parts that were vanilla. It was Althea's fault that they were now headed towards Zaviar's, the snake having voiced her hope he would figuratively knock sense into her. Or possibly knock her out. Sleep and unconsciousness were the same thing, right?
'... Why have we stopped?' Even from the foot well, the familiar could tell that they had not yet reached the were's home. She couldn't smell him yet. And she didn't like that silence she was getting from Madeleine; all anger and confusion mixed together... It wasn't healthy for someone to keep all of that in their head. 'Who's Darcie Black?' If all the elemental was going to do was sit there, staring and emitting nothing but vague impressions of someone she clearly did not like, Althea was going to ask. "Nobody important."
Even Madeleine had to admit that answer did not explain why she was now exiting the car, her sights set on someone she could have done without seeing ever again. Granted, much of the world's population fell into that category, but not all of them were Darcie Black. "Are you going to knock or just stand there like an utter moron?" Not the nicest of greetings, delivered in a tone that spelled out just how unimpressed she was. But she was of the opinion that, right now, expecting common courtesy from her was asking a little much.