The glaring headlight turns aside. The rumbling chopper seems to come a 
little closer. She lowers her arm enough to wipe at her eyes, and gets her first 
decent look at the slag on the bike. From the looks of the black hair falling to 
his shoulders, his strong features, the bandanna around his neck, the broad 
shoulders and heavy build, she guesses that he must be an Amerind. Black 
synthleather jacket ornamented with fringe and studs. Dark pants, heavy boots. 
He rolls the bike to a halt a short distance away. She can feel the heat from 
the engine, can almost feel him watching her through the mirrored lenses of his 
shades.