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Valentine stepped out of the limo, fluffing her hair and giving a grateful smile to the chauffeur, then turned around and began tugging at something that was in the limo with her. Slowly, bags began to emerge: one, no, two enormous suitcases, apparently stuffed with items, a thick briefcase, and a handbag. All of them were brown, decorated with a repeating intertwined "C" logo. After those were cleared out of the way, Valentine disappeared head and torso into the limo, searching for something. She reemerged almost immediately, shaking her head and looking a little peeved.

"It's not there," she growled at the chauffeur, then bent down to rummage in her handbag. Smiling triumphantly, she pulled out her hand, clutching tightly to a black cell phone.

"Of course," she told James, then stuck her cell phone back in her purse and began to wheel her baggage over to the chopper. Her cell phone began to ring halfway there, to the tune of "Brindisi", and with an exasperated sigh she halted and dropped half the bags, then flipped her cell phone open.

"Hawthorne here," she cooed into the cell phone, then flapped her hand apologetically as the chauffeur stepped up and began to wheel her baggage the rest of the way. "No, no, I'll only be gone for two weeks at most. No, tell Jameson he needs to hold off the merger until I get back from - yes, Cindy and Helen can have - no, no, I'm sorry Roger, I'll have to call you back."

With a satisfied sigh, she snapped her cell phone closed again, then followed the chauffeur the rest of the way to the chopper and climbed in. The chauffeur handed her the baggage piece by piece, which she carefully stacked next to her. Her handbag was last, which she carefully placed on her lap. "I'll see you in a few weeks, Benson. Please, tell Roger not to worry about me, I'll be fine." She smiled at the chauffeur, who smiled back, and then retreated to the limo and drove away. Valentine heaved a gusty sigh, then rubbed her arms briskly. "Chilly in here, ain't it?" She asked James.

James waited for Chett to get aboard and then turned on the rotors, he figured they'd work out who was who along the way.

"I didn't notice Ma'am" James said as the helicopter lifted off, then he went back to being quiet.

He figured they could keep each other entertained, which was great because... James hated conversation with the people he flew for.

The helicopter sped towards the island.

The man took her hand without hesitation, although he wondered in the back of his mind if the choice to use her right was a purposeful one. "'m Chert," he said shortly. He didn't feel inclined to give any more information than that to a total stranger- who knew what they'd do with it?

At the mention of the high school accident, though, his eyes flickered in faint recognition. A memory slowly wormed its way to the surface of his mind.

"You don't say?" Chert remarked, seeming interested in the conversation for the first time. He spread his arms across the back of his seat and grinned slightly. "It wasn't... bitten off, was it?"

Chert's grin widened when her reaction confirmed his suspicions- there couldn't be many other Valentines in the world that had suffered such a unique accident. He recalled that most of the high school students had been positively delighted to sink their talons into such a deliciously gruesome rumor, and had been all-to-happy to circulate it until it was a dry, ragged corpse of a story. But his amusement waned as Valentine mentioned the science lab and woke up another memory; students had also been pretty consistent in their choice of the story's "villain." Some of the worries Chert brought along for the ride clamored for attention, but he clamped a firm lid on top of them. He was already in the helicopter. It was a little too late to be having second thoughts.

"Yeah, that was a pretty eventful year," Chert drawled. His lop-sided smile reappeared as if it were part of a magic trick. "It's a big deal when one of the queens of the social hierarchy gets a digit chomped off like a ******** Twinkie."

He pretended to glance outside of the helicopter's window, too, although in reality he was watched her discreetly out of the corner of his eye. "I s'ppose someone like you wouldn't remember me, but I was in a few of your classes. Mostly science."

Valentine's vaguely flirtatious mannerisms were not entirely lost upon him. Chert had encountered females like her in the past- the type that could make the simple act of breathing seem like an enticing promise of pleasure. He'd never been able to figure out if the talent was something they had to carefully cultivate, or whether it was more of an inborn instinct that allowed them to effortlessly wrap men's heart strings around their perfectly manicured fingers. Either way, it wasn't winning her any sympathy points from the man that slouched in the seat across her. He seemed untouched by her doleful tone.

Chert's eyes narrowed slightly. "I didn't cheat," his said. His voice was quiet, but it carried a slight undercurrent of anger. Apparently she'd hit a sore spot. "Maybe I roughed him up a little, though. High school wasn't exactly one of my proudest moments."

It'd been one long streak of misery and frustration, actually- a pulsating boil on the face of Chert's life. He was annoyed that Valentine seemed to enjoy prodding at it with her questions. Not once did it occur to him that he'd been doing the same thing just a few moments ago.

"Weren't you his lab partner, or something?"

Moreau smiled as the helicopter approached the island after a few hours of travel. They were here... he was estatic.

Moreau almost always took pleasure in every single subject he... injected. But these two were special for him. Now admittedly, Moreau wasn't nearly as "heartbroken" by what they'd done to him as he would have had Aubrey believe.

No, for Moreau this was about something far crueler: complete revenge. Showing them both that after all these years, he had the power. Maybe it was pretty, maybe it was silly, but none of that mattered when Moreau set his mind on something.

As Aubrey sat in the jeep next to him, the helicopter came closer and closer to the ground. Till it finally landed, and James opened the door.

Chert slung his single dufflebag over his shoulder and hopped out of the helicopter with a grace that seemed out-of-place in a frame so sturdy and inelegant. He was glad to be free of the icy silence that Valentine was generating. It was possible that the situation with Moreau had her a little on edge, also- Chert certainly wasn't exactly walking on clouds at the moment- but it seemed equally likely that he'd just rubbed her the wrong way.

He glanced around and caught sight of two figures standing near a jeep (with side-view mirrors and everything). A surge of apprehension washed over Chert as he recognized the taller of the two. That red hair was hard to miss, and the characteristic grin even harder. Chert paused a moment, but forced himself to continue over to the pair at a brisk pace, figuring that Val must be able take care of whatever luggage she'd brought by herself.

"Hi," he called. A brilliant start to the conversation. Just how did one approach the man one had used as a human punching bag once-upon-time?

The woman standing beside Moreau seemed familiar, but Chert couldn't recall her name. Arial? Amy? He rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably and held out a hand in greeting, but could think of nothing further to say. Small talk wasn't his strong suit.