Not too different from one of your motorcycles, says someone who doesn't understand traction. Daigo scoffs to himself with amusement, ducking around this machine to take a look at its assembly. He'd love to pop it open and actually look at the pieces under the body. He's been forced to really improve his technical expertise to help Bloodhound and Dettlaff get things done. Half the time he's here, he's studying more than he's under the hood.

What he can tell just from looking: Much heavier cooling system than what's on the bikes, which probably means actual combustion instead of an electric battery. And that this model isn't built for speed. Too heavy, mount isn't flat enough. He could probably make it go faster, which is maybe his own wild streak or maybe it's the amethyst screaming to flex its wings. Maybe it's both of them, suited to each other and amping up their desires. He needs to actually suit up properly for this thing, or he's going to lose an eye to a bug. He goes inside to pick around for his helmet, his jacket, his gloves.

"You really should not let unlicensed operators on your machine, Shaxx," he observes dryly as he comes back out. His helmet warps his voice a little, face tinted out. It's the helmet he wears when he doesn't want the local police to be able to identify him later. Let's not get in to that, it might also have an action camera in it.