An audible breath left Aislinn's lips as the cold pale hue of her irises turned downward towards the fallen bike and crushed, astonished man. The very sight of her, in all of her radiant glory, reduced the poor man to stuttered syllables of incoherency. His gaze dropped sharply to the ground in a reverence that the unicorn wholly appreciated, even if she was entirely unperturbed on her current state of dress. Why would a woman as sublime as her concern herself with bashfulness? Her manicured brow arched as she listened to his efforts to regain his composure. It was endearing, really, the way he seemed to fret so honorably over her lack of clothing - enough to struggle to slide off his jacket before the black leather cloth was tossed at her feet. The color was, admittedly, not particularly one she fancied. Black tended to make the pale ethereal Queen's complexion appear almost...washed out. Still, it was chilly. The skin upon her arms was raised in telling goosebumps and it wasn't as if she had many other options. With a sigh, Aislinn bent down, the woman tentatively picked up the jacket between her thumb and forefinger, as if she was worried it might suddenly bite her. She eyed it for a moment, inspecting it for any unseen stain that might soil her perfect skin before, finally, the young girl slid her arms into the jacket, letting its much larger size embrace her petite frame.

With the black leather obscuring her once bare chest, Aislinn turned her attention back to the problem at hand and the unexpectedly large motorcycle in front of her. Her feet padded silently against the cool asphalt as she approached the machine - her fingers outstretched to brush against the handle bars before tugging lightly on them to better gauge the weight of the bike. It was heavy. Heavier then she had anticipated. Her voice held a soft musing tone to it as she continued around the motorcycle and towards the fallen and efficiently trapped man, altogether aware of his gaze upon her, watching her every moment. Briefly, Aislinn stood over him, her head tilted to the side, shifting her near-ivory locks as she contemplated her ability (or lack thereof) to leave the stranger where he was in the middle of the road in the dead of the night. She crouched beside him, her positioning carefully done so to avoid showing off the more intimate areas of her figure to his undeserving eyes. The very weight of her attention, combined with her proximity, seemed to have some profound effect upon him as the poor man struggled for a moment before accepting her offer for assistance.

He seemed unable to believe that she might be of assistance, his eyes clearly had once roved enough to note her distinctly petite frame. Nevertheless, she watched in silence as he struggled to lift the motorcycle more than a few inches off of his pinned leg, the scent of blood all the more poignant with each attempt. The icicle hue of her irises shifted from man to bike and back again before the fellow sighed in clear defeat, only to inquire after a phone. Her brow rose in incredulity at his query - as if he hadn't seen her entire figure beneath the warm weight of his jacket! She paused, the look upon her fair features alone surely revealing her thoughts before Aislinn finally saw fit to offer him a proper response. "No...but that shouldn't be a problem. I've watched the women lift things like this before...well...not quite as large as yours..." She hardly bothered to explain whom 'the women' were, nor where she'd seen such a thing before. Those smaller, sportier motorcycles tended to be the preferred mode of transportation upon the plains of Mongolia, where the rugged terrain and lack of gas stations required something smaller and far more...adaptable.

Aislinn easily stepped over him, her feet straddling his pinned leg before she settled herself upon the edge of the seat. Her added weight was unlikely to feel particularly comfortable upon his already crushed leg and yet, Aislinn reasoned it was only temporary. Her hand reached again for the nearest handlebar, her fingers tightening around it as her opposite hand settled on the edge of the seat closest to the ground. "Now, push." She commanded, waiting only long enough for him to fit his hands back under the bike to attempt to lift before, using her own legs, Aislinn made an effort to push the bike from the ground in the same way that she'd watched the Mongolian women attempt before. It took some effort and a momentary struggle before the motorcycle finally began to move, lifting upward inch by inch till, finally, it stood balanced as it surely belonged. A visible frown crossed Aislinn's lips, her hand still tightly gripping the handlebar as she remained, poised, upon the seat. "....how do you keep it from falling back over?" She inquired after several moments of simply staring down at the motorcycle - the Queen never once having seen beyond that simple lifting and the riding of the machines.