Her response is a brief growl that he'll hopefully take for reluctant agreement. She's well aware that if she bolts, he'll almost certainly fall off regardless of how tight a grip he has on her fur. For a moment, she entertains the thought of carrying him by the scruff of his jacket as if he was a kitten - it would make moving him along quickly a lot easier for her, and would probably look less suspicious to passers by (just a cat with rodent, they'd think) - but she guesses that neither he nor his jacket would much appreciate it. Perhaps if he really does fall off, he'd forgive a hasty rescue in such a manner.

Logging that option away, she carefully steps off the curb, far enough from the crosswalk that any folk using it won't be able to get too good a look at her, but close enough to benefit from the car-shield that pedestrians provide. Honestly, this would all be a lot less nerve-wracking if she wasn't aware that plenty of drivers think nothing of running over a cat, for all that they'd never try and hit a two-legger on purpose.

The lights change, and as soon as a few humans step into the crosswalk, Daine slinks into the street. She manages to keep from bolting, but she's still moving as quickly as she dares.