Watching the serpent-woman slither away with an entire horde following her, just due to some admittedly good playing of a song she knew from childhood- though her own tastes ran to singing, and not involving dead things of wood and metal in the musical business that should be restricted to good honest throats- Kala grunts. To the only ones still nearby, the unicorn and dwarf, she mutters, "Belike she'll have trouble playing them all into her gullet, she'll have to take the... wooden thingy... out of her mouth to start." She scratches her arm, and snorts quietly. Well, whatever filled her stomach, apparently. "And you, centaur- are you going to fight, or," she gives her shirt color a long side-eyed look, "See if someone's stomach suits you more than yours them?"