"Or several." None of which she feels like discussing before 10AM with a relative stranger, or, you know, anytime with anyone.

"What do you do now?" She wasn't interested last night. She's half interested now. Mostly because the last ex-military man she met set a really terrible precedent and she needs a little more than a first name to effectively google this one, clear him of any association with Simpson or Koslov. Unfair to him, maybe, but it's not personal. What's personal is letting herself be convinced by that handsome grin and those broad, rough hands to get breakfast with him in spite of that whisper of paranoia. He's lucky she's lonely.