Faolan nods slightly. It's been a while, but he's been on bikes before. He's even driven one, although that was on far less busy roads than the roads of London here.

"Yeah," he confirms. "Alright. Lead on, then. It's been a while but I promise not to make a scene." He wonders whether Daryl is the type to wear a helmet -- whether he'll have an extra helmet if he does. He has sudden visions of attempting to ride to Lancelot's rescue only to fall off a bike and concuss himself on the way.

Suddenly he realizes that he's assumed that Daryl meant a motorized bike. He hopes he had meant motorized bike, at least. He has a hard time imagining himself riding on the back of a bicycle riding to the rescue, for that matter.