After what was a rather humiliating first impression, the small otter turned around to see if anyone else was watching him before making another attempt at climbing into the bus seat. Claws tore into the leather, but the attempt was successful. Plopping down triumphantly on, Holt tucked his tail around beside his spread legs before reaching into the pocket on his chest and producing a small iPod classic. While he could manage touch screens with the otter claws, they tended to get too scratched up. The iPod Classic on the other hand, while possessing a small screen, though aptly otter sized, also possessed an actual tactile interface meaning small claws could improvise a method of using the device.

As nice as the iPod was, Holt would have killed for pants. The thick fur coat only hid so much and it wasn't like he was proud to go around hanging dong for the world to see. In this form, there wasn't exactly a lot to be proud of. So yeah, pants would have been a welcome change. 

His claws were personally crossed for an orange jumpsuit. Orange was definitely in right now.

As for the others, Holt couldn't really care less. He knew what the usual reactions to him were, a pet, a pity party, utter confusion. There was no doubt he was just being shipped off to more of the same. It wasn't like he intended to be trapped in this form. Everything had just happened so fast.

The gunshot.

The crowd.

The kid.

The enclosure.

[color=8F2A2A]"Ok. What. The. Fuck?"[/COLOR]

[i]And there it was.[/i]

[color=2A7EB0]"<Hey!>"[/color] Holt suddenly squeaked from his seat, perking up to look around at the eclectic group. [color=2A7EB0]"<Can any of you superfreaks speak otter?>"[/color]

The question was only met with silence.

[color=2A7EB0]"<I'd settle for weasel at this point, stoat even? If I had to, I could probably manage a little rat. At least one of you has got to be a rat.>"[/color]

Still nothing, just a few bug-eyed stares as meaningless chirps came from the small mammal. Shrugging, or at least approximating the gesture with what mobility was afforded to him, Holt sunk back into his seat and returned to his music.

[color=2A7EB0]"<Hey, me again! Can I smoke in here?>"[/color] The otter asked, standing up on the bus seat. 

[color=2A7EB0]"<Silence is compliance, peeps.>"[/color] He chattered, reaching once again into the little fur poach and producing a cigarette case, complete with a lighter inside. 

[color=8F2A2A]"No one is going to say anything? What, does the zoo let out its animals on field trips?"[/COLOR] 

[color=2A7EB0]"<'Sup with'choo, Sugartits?>"[/color] Holt asked between drags, nodding his furry chin towards one of the blonde Yorker who had earlier addressed his arrival with an unnecessary expletive. It wasn't like he could drive himself, everyone takes the bus on this trip.

With the bus coming to a halt, they all filed off. Holt made his way to exit, the girl with the wings letting the otter off in front of her with a smile.

[color=2A7EB0]"<Thanks, Wings, much appreciated.>"[/color]

The trip across on the ferry was uneventful. Holt had wanted to go and do his best 'Titanic' on the bow but got the impression he wasn't allowed to leave his seat. He opted inside to wiggle in place, moving about to his music as obnoxiously as he could without meeting the end of a baton.

Exiting the vessel, Holt made his way inside with the others. His chest pocket was thoroughly violated as he was relieved of his belongings. 

[color=2A7EB0]"<At least buy me dinner before you finger my pocket.>"[/color] He chattered before pushing his way to the front of the small group.

[color=#76424e]“Fuck you very much, Mister Warden. Shit. I meant ‘thank you.’ Thank you very much, Mister Fuckden.”[/COLOR]

Sugartits looked like she was gearing up for a fight. Holt on the other hand let out a sort of chortle, making a small fist and holding out towards Rex while 

[color=2A7EB0]"<Give me some skin my dude, frikkin' got'em.>"[/color]