When Noel held down the first button on her keypad, she knew it would dial a service called for-wun-wun* or something ridiculous like that. Despite the silly name, the operators were competent and helpful. They always connected her calls to the people she asked them to connect her with.

This time, they connected her to the Health Services complaint department. She named the pizza place, the problem and the things around it, but she couldn't give them any specific street names or an address. That seemed a common problem so they dutifully took her complaint and, in all likelihood, tossed it in the trash after she hung up.

It was just as well because the sheer volume of lies that had poured out of Mr. McCoy's mouth made her scrape her fingers across her tongue in disgust. Of course, touching her fingers to her tongue didn't help. She got flashbacks of opening the paper around her straw, handling her diet coke, buttoning her blouse, last week she'd had a band-aide on her pinky finger…

It was easier to break out of it this time. She was already familiar with where her fingers had been and the images held very little interest for her.

"You have a foul mouth." And Noel? She apparently had a mouth that could see the past.

The ex-agent pressed her palms into her eyes. "What am I going to do?" Forget the fact that she was with her boss, Noel didn't cook. If she couldn't eat out… could she eat?

---

*Note: Noel still can't read. For-wun-wun is actually 4-1-1 information.

"You have a foul mouth." She said it in a rather matter of fact tone with some obvious distaste. For a moment, Paul just looked at her with an eyebrow raised so slightly. "And here I've always prided myself on using language without unnecessary profanity." He responded as he failed to make the connection because the lies he had told so smoothly and her power that would have left a very bad taste in her mouth.

"What am I going to do?"

"I suggest cooking classes or finding a restaurant where you know the wait staff and can trust them completely." He responded with a shrug as he walked to the edge of the sidewalk and stuck out a hand to wave down a taxi. As was typical in New York, they kept blowing past him until he pulled out a twenty dollar bill and waved it in the air. Then, miraculously, not only one but two taxis pulled up to the curb. "Try salads, tofu, beans... those all require minimal prep and hopefully will keep from giving you any memories."

Opening the door of the first cab, Paul leaned in and handed the cabbie forty bucks. "Take the lady wherever she needs to go and keep the change." Stepping back he dug in his pocket and fished out a small roll of bills from which he took five twenties and extended them to the still confused woman. "Here... consider this an advance on your salary. It should take care of your needs until your first paycheck clears."

Handing over that money left him with maybe another hundred bucks to himself but that wasn't a concern. He had learned long ago to live simply without to much extravagance. Sure, he enjoyed partaking in the finer things of life occasionally but other than that his needs were simple. "The cab will take you home, or to a friends house, or wherever you need to go. And this," He continued as he fished out a plain white business card with only his name and cell number in simple block print, "is my number. Feel free to call if you need me."