The newcomer climbs on and Balthier angles the bike back down the street. The guilds have a mass transport site he's been taking evacuees to. It shouldn't take long, maybe ten or fifteen minutes unless he wants to push the bike faster, though really there's no need. They hover just eight or so feet off the ground, high enough to clear any people.

As he rounds a corner, though, something strange happens; the bike lurches forward at twice the speed, but it doesn't feel faster.

"Alright back there?" he tries to ask, but the sounds come out crammed together and hard to articulate.