Isaera watches Amelia leave, standing up wordlessly to follow... as is her way. It may seem rude, but she simply translated thought to action faster than strictly needed. She pauses outside the wagon, smirking at the garish colour... often bringing up to the alchemist that she should camouflage it. She sighs, before raising her hand to the side to do her signature knock. Three short raps, a pause and then a final knock.