Et voila -- there was a man in her car! A statement of triumph that even when only declared inside her head somehow did not quite sound the way Arden truly intended it (which was as a point of fact, not the declaration of a French tart) and caused her cheeks to colour ever-so-slightly. A better look on her for the moment, she immediately decided, since she had forgotten to wear any kind of blusher. Absent-mindedly setting one hand rather protectively over the stick-shift so neither Ice nor his familiar -- was the monkey about to eat in her car? -- accidentally changed gear, she very quickly checked her reflection before giving the witch a contemplative frown while she honestly tried to remember if she had done that at all recently. The answer was no. Possibly never before, and that just made the event all the more interesting. Ice’s distinct lack of grace as he fell into the car had gone unnoted, as had any degree of dishevelment she might have caused in the process of pulling him in. “Most people would ‘ave called that kidnapping or something similar,” she pointed out airily, suddenly amused by how it must have looked from outside. Her car was wonderful, though. Beautiful. She adored it--oh. Catching the rest, Arden’s cheeks dimpled in a smile that accepted his compliment as a truth -- she knew what she looked like -- but nevertheless one that he’d caught her off guard with. She generally didn’t expect people to just say things like that.
Now… whistle at her when she was on the way to the store, yes. That was something she was quite used to. She also tended to ignore it.
Giving as much of a curtsy as one could from behind the wheel, she pretended she had no clue colour had risen in her cheeks. Sometimes she hated being so pale. “My car thanks you,” she replied, smile broadening into a grin. “And so do I. -- Lollipop?” A finger waved at the area (tub? … indentation?) in front of the gear-stick: her lollipop cache. “Just don’t eat all the… the cherry ones. They are my favourite. -- And,” her eyes sought Rafiki in her periphery and the mirrors, one hand automatically switching between the gear-stick and straightening Ice’s vest for him with no grasp on personal bubbles to speak of. “If that banana is still in ‘ere, you do not get it all over my car.” Arden gave something of a stern pout. That was not a request. It was just a fact -- it was never happening. She really did not want to think about what she might have to do to the monkey if the got banana pulp all over the interior. Other than cry, maybe. The pout was directed at Ice as a countermeasure; if Rafiki did not understand then he would just have to.