She saw. He could tell from the look that flickered over her face that Helen had seen the same scenes Sawyer had, and it was more than enough to make him swear under his breath, words that he kept quiet enough so that they wouldn't sully her ears. This island, it was starting to look even worse than the last, because at least before, the only person worming into his past was very much human and thus limited by all that police records ever detailed. Damn it.

"Kitchen's downstairs," he muttered briefly, before heading ahead to look down the stairs and hoping that they were still clear, an arm held out to keep Helen back. Protected, or as close to it as he could manage with the way things were. "And if they're physically still men, we'll manage, Ginger. As long as they ain't ninjas."