Severa's expression almost immediately sours at being called a "kid" and also being snapped at. She was going to help. Now... okay, she's still going to help, because this was her fault and she is technically a hero. And PR is PR.

"I'm eighteen," she protests, heading to the first domino in the motorcycle chain. "I haven't had to lift one of these in a while," she says to herself, as though she's ever actually had to lift a motorcycle, like, in a professional environment. Still, it's what, 600 pounds or something like that? Not totally impossible. She stretches her arms straight up above her head. "If I can't do this myself, want to help?" It's not really a question.