Cassandra ducked her head and sat in Henry's car. Why did it feel like the rule about ice was directed at her personally? Cassandra wouldn't do that to leather, she wasn't stupid. Yet she ducked her head in shame as Henry blasted the music. The music itself wasn't too bad, Cassandra just preferred it... quieter. "Thank you for the ride. I could have used magic to get there, but..." she trailed off, letting the other woman fill in the blanks. She shrunk back into the seat, just barely remembering to buckle the seatbelt as she did so.

She thought more about what could have brought back the dead body, and the feeling of being watched that she'd felt when she left the coffee shop. Even though she acted meek and not that skilled, her past as a 'hitman' was still something she used regularly. Body language, scanning the crowds for unusual activity, and of course, arcane knowledge. It was how she knew Henry hated her, and it was why Cassandra was driving herself insane trying to figure out why. From the get go it seemed that Henry would refuse to talk to her or act as though Cassandra was something rotten stuck to the bottom of her shoe.