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Lucky checked his brand-new holographic watch again. No, it still did not tell time. Nor did it tell him where Mark was.

And most importantly, it did not tell him why Mark had texted him about waiting next to this... boat.

But since Mark hadn't actually responded to any of his ten variations of follow-up questions all amounting to 'why the hell would I do that, Mark', Lucky had no choice but to show up if he wanted his question answered.

"It's..." Lucky had had plenty of time to admire the craftsmanship, or lack thereof. Twenty minutes, at the very least. And as far as Lucky was concerned, calling it a boat was giving it too much credit. Lucky wondered if Mark had ever considered sticking to the tiny version that went in bottles instead. "Definitely something."

He glanced between the logos on Mark and the boat, noting their similarity. "Going somewhere? In the - in the boat, I mean."

Lucky looked curious, then confused, then apprehensive, and finally, offended. Mark might as well have made another crack about the helicopter, because after getting a sarcastic remark about it from pretty much everyone else on the entire island, Lucky couldn't imagine this wasn't more of the same.

"I do not," Lucky complained, stomping through the sand to grab the side of Mark's makeshift boat and lean in, "get hurt that often --"

He immediately yelped something that was probably quite rude in Polish and recoiled, several wooden splinters sticking out the fingers of one hand.

"D-didn't even feel that," he blatantly lied, then quickly and painfully yanked them out. Mark's point was practically making itself, but that just made Lucky even more determined to up the stakes and disprove it. Lucky sighed heavily and wiped his hands off on his coat. "Fine. I'll go. But only so I can prove to you how not dangerous it's going to be if I'm there."

"Of - of course I'm coming!" Lucky folded his arms stubbornly and tried to bury his apprehension and the chastising of his weapon deep down. He already had a bad feeling about this, but it was too late to run away scared like he usually did. "And that better not be code for 'the guy who goes on beer runs for you'."

"Y-yeah, I understand -" Lucky nodded along to the rules, trying to feign some more enthusiasm he didn't have for field work. Follow Mark's lead, don't touch anything, and - "Wait. Dinosaur? Mark, what do you mean dinosaur?"

"Yes, but -" The argument that living, stampeding dinosaurs were 'impossible' didn't really hold a lot of weight here. But Mark was probably exaggerating. Lucky just made a few wordless noises of complaint instead and tried to shrug his coat off while still chasing after Mark, who had already managed to get a significant head start in the space of seconds.

"There. See? Normal." Pathetic was a more accurate description, but at least Lucky dressed fairly blandly under the required uniform coat today. A striped shirt and jeans were not going to draw attention, and his hairstyle (or lack thereof) could just barely be passed off as a 'statement'. A statement that he hadn't seen a pair of scissors in years. He tossed the coat over a nearby chair and kept walking. As for the bag... "Yeah. I'll, uh, improvise. I can do that."

Also a lie.

"Ready," he repeated, and then mumbled under his breath, "to prove you wrong."

Lucky look deeply affronted (perhaps remembering a specific status effect) but, seeing as he was already come this far, there was no backing out now.

He also didn't have a chance to get a word in edgewise, whether about the missing dinosaurs or the fact that this place had a cornfield that greatly resembled the withered one on Deus. Rustling the grass a bit as he got his bearings, he looked all around on instinct, but there wasn't much to see except lots of corn. Mark's device was intriguing but any Deus technology Lucky hadn't seen much of was bound to catch his eye. He planned to get a closer look later on.

"Me? I thought you said no -" he began to hiss back, immediately ducking down for cover. Apparently, there would be no consistency to Mark's rules today, or ever. Except the one about throwing him into danger first. He was still getting used to how his new division actually did stuff like that on purpose. "I'll - I'll get a little closer..."

Giving Mark one more obviously feigned look of both confidence and certainty that this wasn't going to kill him or even maim him over his shoulder, Lucky began his not-very-stealthy approach toward the voices. About the only thing going for him right now was that he was short enough to be well-hidden in all the scratchy plant life, even if it did make the occasional snap as he brushed past it.

Four pairs of eyes were on him. Lucky froze like a deer in the headlights, wide-eyed with confusion.

To say this was not what he had been expecting would be an understatement. Time seemed to slow down as his thoughts raced - as though weeks had passed and yet he was no closer to a solution to the problem. The multiple problems. Mark had vanished from sight, four civilians were asking him about Fear, there was a camera, and a gun, and he had no idea where they were, and - and -

"Yes," Lucky responded loudly to all of the conversations at once, instantly betraying his accent. Maybe he had been expecting the division transfer to change something innate about himself. Like his improvisational skills. The ones he didn't have. Needless to say, he was still as bad at acting as ever. At least it would buy him a little more time to think of what to say next.

"But, uh, before I do," Lucky added as he took one step out of the cornfield, still struggling to get into a character he didn't even know, "Can you tell me what you already know? About Fear. Just so I'm not... repeating anything."