I suppose it's not nice to laugh at your handler, but I couldn't help it. He looked so embarrassed. He turned to me once he finished glaring at the door and I stopped laughing.
"Sorry about that," He said.
"It's okay," I said struggling not to laugh again.
"Listen just ignore her okay? If you don't want to go then you don't have to," He said.
"I didn't say I didn't want to," I said hoping I sounded aloof, "but if you don't want to then you don't have to take me into town. You're my handler not my chauffer."
"No.....I didn't say I minded," he said.
I looked at him for a couple of seconds before responding, "Okay then. Lets go."

Our ride downtown was silent. It felt so odd. I was sleeping in the same house with, riding in a car with, and would soon be walking around the streets in plain sight with a man who SD-6 would kill be for knowing.
"Well actually they wouldn't kill you for knowing Vaughn, they kill you for being a double agent," I reminded myself. Not that it helped me calm down any. This was a bad idea. I should have just stayed at the inn, should have argued more when his mother was shoving us out the door, should have gone back inside, should have-................too late we were already there. Vaughn stepped out of the car looking just as uncomfortable with this situation as I was.
"At least I'm not suffering alone," I thought smugly as I got out of the car and shut the door behind me.
We walked side by side down the street in front of little shops with various items displayed in their windows; some were open others weren't. The town itself was small and quaint. Just the sort of place that people dreamed of going for country vacations. I could see why Vaughn's mom opened her bed and breakfast there.
"This feels really strange," I heard him admit.
"Yeah," I said in agreement, "Well, just keep with the thought that we don't know each other and we'll be fine."
He nodded but didn't make any other comments.
"So, Michael. Your mom's place seems very nice, it must have been wonderful growing up there," I said try to along with our cover and ease the tension at the same time.
"Actually she didn't buy that place until I left for college. We lived in Normandy until I was 8, then we moved to LA after my father died," he said.
I stopped to face him. "Is that really true?" I whispered.
"Yeah," he nodded after a soft chuckle. We continued walking as I processed this new information. He was born in France? I had no idea. I knew he spoke French, but so did I and I had never been there until I joined SD-6. It seemed strange that he knew pretty much my entire life story. Things that my closest friends, with the exception of Will maybe, didn't know about me but I knew so little about him.
"So what brings you here so close to Christmas?" he asked.
"Well I was on my way to visit a friend," I said.
"Francie?" He asked dropping his voice considerably lower.
I gave a slight nod and went on, "But I had a run in with a drunk driver just outside town and my car was smashed up."
"You were in a car accident?" He asked stopping dead in his tracks.
"Yes," I said.
"Why didn't you tell me?!" He demanded.
"I just did," I said quietly hoping he would follow my example and keep his voice down.
"I mean why didn't you call me?" He asked, "Why didn't you tell the CIA?"
"I didn't see the need. The paramedics checked me out and said I was fine," I said feeling like a teenager being lectured for staying out past curfew.
"Are you sure? Did they take you to the hospital? If your car was damaged so much it couldn't be driven it must have been a bad accident," he said.
"I was lucky," I stated plainly. I'll admit it was funny, and quite touching, to see how afraid he was at the thought of my being in an accident. Although it was nothing really, I'd been in much worse situations than that.

Our conversation after that was minimal. We mostly just continued to walk on in silence until we came to the end of the street and stopped in front of a place called The Bean Palace.
"Looks like the coffee place is open," he commented.
"Mmm," I nodded as we breathed in the dark aroma of roasting coffee.
"Do you want to go in and get a cup?" he asked.
I felt a momentary tingle. Did Vaughn just as me get coffee with him? "Sydney!" I scolded myself, "Could you maybe grow up? You are older than twelve you know."
 "Yes, that sounds nice," I said casually.
"Better," my subconscious approved.