One of which, for some ridiculous reason, smells faintly of...turtle?

"Yeah, we'll do that," Raph drawls from the backseat.
A place he remains until Stiles is just out of sight.

For a big guy, Raph is pretty maneuverable. With very little muss or fuss he's in the front seat.

"Crack a window, he says...." There's a snort as Raph fishes through his pockets for a set of lock picks.

It's been some time since Raph has hotwired a car. Any other vehicle would give him pause, but...this bucket of bolts? Not so much.