Abra was ill equipped to deal with this sort of thing. Most of her life had been spent in relatively warm climates, and any period of time that wasn't, she'd always had the appropriate wardrobe for. She'd never had to run for her goddamn life before.
But, if absolutely nothing else, she was usually easily swayed by a crowd, if not common sense. She looked down at braids, considered it, and shook her head. "You need all the layers you can get," she told her. "I'll find baggies or something to put in my boots." They were, at least, very good boots. A rare purchase bought as much for warmth and comfort as for fashion, something she'd needed to go trapsing around that castle in Antwerp for the last shoot she'd worked. "You guys are right, and I'm willing to wait a few minutes to look, but I still strongly feel the urge to get the fuck out. And I'm at least somewhat dressed for it, so maybe I should still pop outside and look for a car. I can come right back."