Please. If the best driver in the bloody business dents your bike then you can bet your ass it's because I'm already dead, darling. [Chloe kicks off, keeps Helena tight against her chest as she runs them through the snow, careful to mind the thickness of things so they don't topple or drop off. The makeshift clinic's not close, but knocking the pair of them over wont get them there any faster.]

When did she get here, this 'lady' of yours?