Luckily for Faolan, Daryl was, in fact, referring to a motorcycle. His motorcycle was obviously cobbled together from spare parts. But as Faolan would find out when he got on to ride it, it ran superbly. And yes, there was a helmet for Faolan to wear. Daryl had one, too. City traffic laws were almost entirely obeyed by the southerner. He didn't want a blemish on his record when he was aiming for citizenship. ...A three year work visa at the very least.

Daryl gets the bike ready and hands Faolan said helmet, then climbs on, "Gonna need an address. Or at least an idea of what part of the city we're going to."