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"Lucky!" A hand patted Lucky on the shoulder. "Wow, what a coincidence, I was just watching the goofs set up that portal lighthouse nonsense when fancy meeting you!" Sam wasn't even being subtle here. "Hey, I got a great idea, you're walking, and I'm walking, why don't we walk together. Kind of like a patrol."

She started veering towards the beach regardless of Lucky's yes or no. and didn't wait until they were well down the beach closer to the jungle than anything else before changing away from the topic of how exercise was great for the soul or had Lucky tried hot yoga yet. It was probably as close to a date as Lucky had ever had. "So," the corners of her mouth turned upwards, "are you ready for an adventure?"

"Vha- but-"

He didn't have much of a choice in the matter, as Sam seemed to be dragging him off with her. Most of Sam's conversation was met with looks of varied confusion, occasional horror, and some nervous smiles and nods. It really was the closest he'd been to being on a date, which probably said a lot. Certainly it explained his inability to say anything remotely intelligent when prompted. The gears turned slowly in his head. Was he... being retrieved...?

He looked relieved to have something to talk about that wasn't strange American exercise fads, and even smiled a little hesitantly. It was far too late to say no; he had committed. "As ready as I ever vill be."

Having spaced out on their conversation, Shiloh suddenly had bigger problems than hot yoga. He was getting a more intimate knowledge of Sam than he had ever wanted to, and he clapped his hands over his eyes as quickly as he could, but the problem with being a ghost, and not entirely opaque, was that his fingers did nothing to obscure the view, the image of pale skin and black lace burned into his mind.

Eager to not repeat the experience with Lucky, he screwed his eyes shut tight, and made sure to turn around, the only consolation being that at least Sam had a nice pair of tats.

"All right then, this way." She walked a bit more, or rather they walked for a considerable length longer until they were on the jungle portion of the island. "Lighthouse is well guarded, everyone is watching that. We rigged the jungle portal to work, it's inconvenient as hell, but gets the job done." Sam stopped right in front of the glowing portal. "Say hocus pocus."

She pushed Lucky in and stepped in after him. Everything lurched, for a split second, and then they were standing at a bus stop. A sleek black car was waiting for them, and Sam stepped inside the passenger's seat, pulling Lucky by one hand after her. They both sat down, across from a passenget already seated in the limo. He was a rather tall gentleman with a very clean suit.

"Mint?" Sam and Lucky were offered a tin of mints as the car started moving. He continued. "Now, I've secondhand all this tale of glory from Sam, but I'm curious Lucky, how did you manage such a wondrous feat? Truly you struck fear into our foe with your blows to the targeted one."

He hesitated before following them through the portal, just for a moment, worrying if by doing so he might somehow do irreparable damage to himself, or worse, not be able to get back.

But he didn’t trust Sam, and the fact that she’d led Lucky all the way out here, out of sight and alone, only increased his suspicions. Lucky seemed to not be worried at all, not any more so than usual, Shiloh noted, and he wondered how the two knew each other. So, greatly missing the encouragement the voice of his weapon would have given him to do it, he moved after them into the portal, staring in disbelief at the familiar scene before him.

It wasn’t raining this time, but the car was the same and so were the mints. Shiloh’s eyes narrowed, scrutinizing the man in the suit. No hood this time, it seemed but more interesting in his appearance were his words, and Shiloh shot an accusing look at Lucky. He hadn’t… Killed someone, had he? Shiloh didn’t know a lot about Lucky but he’d always seemed like a decent guy, and at the very least not capable of murder. Even if their buggy situation a little while back had been a little unnerving, Shiloh had to remind himself that it wasn’t Lucky who’d consciously plunged him under the sand; it had been the insects controlling him.

But he was certain there was no one controlling him now, aside from Sam, and Shiloh paled at Lucky’s cold answer, a joke, a smile about killing someone.

Shiloh hoped this was all a ruse.

The ride continued in silence, save for the man's comment. Lucky had eased his eyes toward the windows as well, taking in the scenery of an unknown environment flying past them behind his glasses, but snapped his gaze back when addressed.

The voice in his head was equally dangerous. < Which is why I'm suuure you have a plan. Right? >

"Yes."

They arrived at some kind of house that sprawled like a mansion. It looked expensive; places like this always ended up converted into museums, too beautiful - and expensive - for any one person to keep to themselves. It came as a surprise that they were greeted by a silent group in drab greys, completely opposite of the sharp dressed look of the limousine group. Lucky was forcibly escorted with them into the foyer, where two groups waited with a gulf of empty space to separate them. Sam and the tall man walked away, leaving him alone with the cultish escort group.

As soon as Sam left him, the handful of mysterious grey-clothed figures had herded him toward the rest of their group. They stood in front of him, cutting off any hope he had of escaping. He was well and truly trapped.

Maybe Sam had overestimated the dress code for the event, because Lucky felt extremely uncomfortable standing in the middle of the throng of simple grey outfits. There was no pattern to the gathered group - he could see young and old alike, a huge difference from the hunters' primarily younger ranks. Actually, he'd never seen a single hunter older than forty... He considered trying to strike up a conversation with the girl next to him, but something about the way she waited, quiet and determined, made him reconsider.

He glanced forward again sharply as the man from the limousine stood up. He'd been more than some kind of contact, then; from the way everyone else was regarding him, he seemed to be in charge of this. He had thought Shiloh's untimely death would have been proof enough for them - they'd promised by text that they would tell him everything once Shiloh had been 'taken care of'. Lucky felt like he was back in school again waiting to be chosen for a piłka nożna team - and he'd never been much good at sports. He was not sure what he had been expecting when Sam called this an adventure, but it wasn't this.

One by one, the panel of waiting men and women called a name. One of the grey throng stepped forward and received a pin each time, waiting by the respective Speaker. It was some kind of initiation. What happened if he passed? What happened if he didn't?

By the time it was Sam's turn to choose, Lucky was a mixture of hopeful and uneasy. It was the waiting more than anything. He'd come this far in trying to discover the truth of things. At least he could count on Sam to -

"I choose Patricia."

Lucky could not stop himself from staring at the girl Sam had chosen, even after she had taken her place at Sam's side. He didn't even hear the last Speaker's choice.

He was still trying to make sense of what had just happened when the tall man spoke up again. He called himself a Judge. Little bit ominous, but Lucky didn't doubt Caelius probably ascribed himself the same title. Already Lucky had begun to ease himself into the belief that maybe Sam had done him a favor, and spared him from whatever 'warrior' role that being a Courier entailed. He'd lied to get here, and Sam probably knew, if no one else did. She was a Speaker - discovering that she had a significant role in their organization was pretty promising the next time he sought answers from her. He had reassured himself of all this so much so quickly that he was relieved to hear the Judge's criteria for Courier was so decisive. So unlike the meek life hunter.

That was probably why it took him a full second to process that his name had finally been called.

He was pulled forward somehow, whether by his own movement or someone else's hand on his shoulder. A circular pin was affixed to his lapel. He turned toward the rest of the waiting crowd of grey, going still as a statue. The Judge's voice boomed from above and behind him to conclude the event. Lucky's mind drew only blanks in attempting to rationalize the choice. He felt a small twinge of something - guilt, or unease - at the idea that his 'murder' of Shiloh probably had a whole lot to do with it.

The next part was a blur of greetings with forgettable faces, a series of handshakes, and the disorienting feeling of being entirely out of place as a few of the grey-clothed men and women almost seemed to be leering at him. He was relieved when Sam found him again, and made a point of staying close to her. Her reassurance made him feel a little less conflicted about being chosen. He was, as always, easily pushed (and pulled) around.

"Oh, okay-"

Sam had already started dragging him by the hand, and he followed with little to no resistance. There were more unknown people to talk to along the way, and he followed Sam's instructions carefully now that the pressure was off, letting them make the majority of the conversation.

Until once again, they were in the presence of the tall man. Lucky felt like he had a million questions for Sam already - where to even begin? - and glanced toward the Judge as he sorted through them. He saw the man raise his wineglass, and there was the sharp obligation of eye contact made. Lucky gave him another polite, fixed smile and a head bob of a nod. His face felt uncomfortably like a plaster mask, in danger of cracking at any moment.

"Yes, I think so," he answered Sam. In the presence of so many other people who posed so much potential danger, Lucky continued to wear a nonthreatening smile. He took a deep, quiet breath to steady his nerves before slowly easing his arm around Sam's shoulders. It allowed him to lean in close to her ear, to ask a quiet question while the Speakers were still busy staying true to their name and filling the room with noise. "So who is Patricia?"