Tracey returned the smile and pulled back out her radio, dialing the federal prison's frequency. She had to admit to herself that hearing Monroe would come along made her happy--but she couldn't let that distract from business. Especially not when it was on a federal level. Police duty above all else...right?

The speaker buzzed to life, followed by a bored, almost metallic voice that intoned, "Isla do Noir Federal Prison police frequency. State your business."

"Officer RRA-195-760, Inspector Tracey de Carlo reporting for duty on the prison case. Assigned by Captain Marcio Buffón. Requesting air lift to island from Agra, Western District."

A minute of silence followed the deluge of information, which Tracey explained with a mouthed, "Processing," to the bounty hunter beside her as she tapped an impatient foot. Finally, a beep resounded and the cold, lethargic voice returned.

"Request approved. Helicopter to pick up at dead end off Santa Luisa Avenue in approximately five minutes. Confirm ability to meet."

"Yes, I can be there in...ah, I mean--confirmed. Thank you."

"Transmission over."

Tracey flicked the radio off and glanced back up at Monroe, a tinge of color upon her freckled cheeks. "Sometimes I forget that I'm not really talking to a person on the other end. Automated systems are strange.

"But anyhow...we're about to ride over to this high, rocky island that rises out of the ocean a few miles from here, where the prison is located. Have you...ever ridden in a helicopter? If you forget where we're headed, then it's almost...well...let's just say it should be an exciting experience if you haven't."

OoC: Sorry for the blahness and shortness. I just wanted to post something in this so you didn't have to wait any longer. <___<