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The Sahara mission before had been an success as far as coming back with a prisoner, a sign of some outside effort not just physically in paperwork. Most people would be overly pleased with themselves, but Melvin was frustrated. The desert had something he wanted. Something he wanted to see for himself, to touch, and to examine.

With Jan podded, he had to address the fact that Rin was not in a reliable place. He had to be there for her, and that meant he had to keep going with his goal of bringing her home.

With Jan podded, he also did not have the same team as before which had led to a successful mission. Yet it was oddly better this way. Jan had gotten lost before and it was the first sign he should be keeping Jan and Rin safe from dangerous situations.

It was chance and distant hope that he extended an invitation to Al. He barely knew the man, but he wasn't sure placing all the weight of being backup to Melvin was fair to Horace who, he admitted, he also wanted to protect as desperately as Jan and Rin as he was becoming Melvin's closest friend. If he had any other options, Melvin would have found a replacement for Horace too, but he also wanted someone who's body he somewhat knew (and thanks to helping him pick out body washes, he did).

Equipped for the mission, he waited at the portal with the readout of what they would be doing, waiting for the other two hunters.

Al finally rolled up, on time - not early or late. He was a bit surprised to find Melvin and Horace already there. He wasn't on the greatest of terms with either of them, but they didn't outright label him unlike some assholes and for that alone, he was willing to learn more. Plus he needed more knowledge and experience outside of the island.

He had a back pack which someone else a bit more clever than him about this sort of thing packed for him.

"Sooo... what's the plan Mr. Clean?" Al peered at Melvin curiously.

"Hi, Al. Death, death, life - alright." He watched as Melvin fingered his hair briefly - it would certainly be a shame if the life hunter was bald. He shrugged and decided to voice his opinion. "Your hair's too fluffy to get rid of - I like it." Yes, stellar endorsement. Horace peered at Melvin's tattoo - he'd seen it before, at the hotel. There had been a scar too, though if Melvin didn't want to show it - Horace would not mention it.

He grimaced briefly. "Scars? Well, obviously, I have my tattoos." He gestured to his left arm - three bands robe high on his bicep. Methodically, as though he were an automaton running through its standard programming, he began to show the others. "One." He held up his left hand, the gap between his middle and pinkie fingers glaringly evident. "Two." The raised ridge of scar tissue was exposed as he pulled on the neckline of his tank top: a tacky thing, the product of a wardrobe with mostly sweater vests. Another pull, this time exposing his left shoulder entirely. "And, of course, these - just in case they can somehow replicate one of them, here's all of them." Across his left shoulder were five oblong marks. If anyone looked at them closely, they might realize they were spaced like fingers. Horace's collarbone was littered with several burn marks, round and shiny, but old. He couldn't be too careful with clones.

Shrugging, he looked at Al. "Your turn."

He wasn't vain - well, not entirely, but he did tend to spend a lot of time on his hair. He didn't want to go buzz it or even go so far as going bald if he had to, and had only done so when he had gotten lice from Rep. Now his hair was back to normal aside from the white streak, and he was glad that it didn't look bad enough to others.

"T-Thank you. I ...take care of it. Your hair is interesting and well kempt." He was a bit thrown off before he straighten up as he tried to get back on track.

Mission. Identifying features. Yes.

He still touched a piece of his hair though as he turned to look at Horace as the man didn't hesitate to point out all the tattoos and scars on his person, which were many. He wondered if the tattoos had any signifigance, but he could always ask that later.

Once done, he turned to Al and then frowned. "You don't even have a little scar? Even from some childhood accident or a mission?" He stepped closer. "You know....you don't have to be shy about it." It had to be that, right?

"It's okay. It's not like we're taking pictures or need to see all of it."

"Uh..," Al frowned at Melvin and looked rapidly between him and Horace. "Surely you remember something from that night? Tell the man - I'm completely unmarred!"

When Horace produced a sharpie instead to mark him, Al was clearly relieved and rolled up his right sleeve and offered that arm to Horace and looked away as if he were getting an inoculation. "Just don't draw anything offensive, okay?"

He rolled his eyes at Al's distress. "All I remember is a damn headache." With his left hand, Horace steadied Al's arm and began to draw. There was a little pot drawn crudely in Sharpie, because really, Horace wasn't even trying. In the pot was suitably prickly cactus with a lonely flower blooming on top. He was adding the finishing touches (the word defensive, because Al had said nothing offensive) when Melvin spoke. The marker skidded, drawing a long, jumpy line across Al's skin. Oops. 'Tattoo' done, he turned to gape at Melvin.

d"What? Me? Him? W-what?" He blinked owlishly. "No." Horace shook his head, hair whipping around his face. "Al is not my boyfriend, ever. He's shackin' up with Noah." Al was a drunken one night stand - and his current boyfriend... Horace stilled, the corners of his mouth turning down. Falling silently, he tugged at the collar of his shirt, his knuckles just brushing the scar tissue there.

((Ignore the roll.))

The looks he got made him slowly raise up his hands to show he was unarmed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know Al was with..Noah? Hmm. " It seemed the helper to Rin's harder had a personal life. Then, shortly after that, Melvin looked even more wide-eyed and then glanced at Horace. "Jan?" He hadn't suspected Horace was anything but good friends with the man, and maybe it was just more convenient to think Jan was not with anyone. Yet to know they were both together made Jan more of his own person and placed a sort of guilt in the Lifer to know he was using Jan's body when it wasn't with Horace. If Horace knew….

"Well,…good for the both of you. Noah and Jan are both very good people. But we should be going, right?" Melvin leaned to glance at Al's knew tattoo and quirked a eyebrow at Horace. "Cactus?"

Confused, he turned and stepped through the portal.

The Sahara as a blister of heat melting the horizon with the bright sun above and the only variation aside from mountains of dunes was the torn tarps of a neglected base. "This one isn't far off from the one we were at before, Hroace." Melvin informed him as he started to head to the base. "Keep alert. There has been suspicious activities going on and considering the high patrols from our last mission, I suspect there is more here than we know of. It's why I wanted to return to this area."

"I'm no prickly!" Al scolded, completely unaware of any hidden faux pas he may have made. He piled his scarves around his head for protection and then followed the two right on through the portal to the other side.

The sun was far more intense than he had ever imagined before hand and immediately he had flashbacks of sinking in a ball pit and struggling to get the proper footing to get out. This was notably less fun. He tried to look for the other two but found he was almost completely blinded by the sun shining off the light coloured sands. Why anyone would ever build a base here was well beyond his ability to comprehend.

Then he remembered Noah was the one to pack his bags, not him, and he sought out anything to help. He found both a visor with some sort of tiny fan attached to the lip and a pair of sunglasses, he immediately took advantage of both, even wrapping his carves back around the visor so any wind wouldn't just snatch it off. He took stock of the other goodies in the bag and nodded a little, impressive.

At least now he could see - and follow the others. What he could make out looked like sand blasted rubble.