Mikhail had always been a safe driver. He didn't drive recklessly, and he certainly kept his eyes peeled for other objects and pedestrians. His head turned and through the shining shield over his helmet he saw the man stumble back, and sighed to himself. The motorcycle puttered as he turned at the corner and swung back around. A purr came from the machine and it quieted as the rider in his leather jacket and denim, heavy boots, came to a halt.
"You are...oh-kay?" asked the werewolf after removing the helmet to reveal his scruffy, gruff face and the scar tearing down his cheek. His accent was clearly not of this land, certainly Russian in some form.