Kate started to plate the breakfast that she'd made for the two of them. Unfortunately, since it didn't seem like he'd been shopping in a while, she had to do a lot of improvising, but a majority of the items in the fridge were good, so she had more to work with than expected. She put together Sam's plate first; pancakes, scrambled eggs and bacon. She put it at his spot and went back into the kitchen to get her plate together. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when he realized who she was.

Looking toward the dining table, he could see the table laid out for breakfast. 2 place settings, the steel carafe from the coffeemaker and various other little things. He noticed that 1 plate was already out and as he sat down, he saw the note folded at the top of the plate.

Go ahead and eat. You didn't have much last night, so don't tell me you're not hungry.

-K.E.D.

He smiled. Whoever she was, she was definitely good. How she knew what he liked, he had no idea, but she was an amazing cook. This was even better than some of the breakfasts he'd had when he stayed at Hotel Beau Rivage the few times he'd gone to Nice. She'd even put the papers out. 'I could get used to this very easily,' he thought as he opened up the National section.

Kate peeked out of the kitchen to see Sam at the table reading the paper with his glasses halfway down his nose. 'He's so much better-looking than when I first met him,' she thought, "but he seems like the same sweet guy that kissed me in Minneapolis. Well, it's now or never. Let's go see if his memory matches his looks." She picked up her plate and walked out toward the table.

He looked up from the paper when he heard footsteps coming from the kitchen and stood when he saw that it was her. She definitely looked better than the pale, cold figure that had lain on his couch last night. Even though he had a gut feeling that she wasn't Kate, he would ask anyway. If nothing else, then he'd find out more about this woman who was braver than even the DCDOT the night before.

"Good morning," he said as he took his glasses off, "How're you feeling this morning?"

"Better, thanks. You really didn't have to do all of this. I'd hate to think that I put you out at all."

"Don't worry about it. I'm just glad you're feeling better. I don't mean to sound forward, but would you mind if I asked you a few questions?"

"As long as you'll tell me what you think of breakfast."

"It's great. The scariest thing is that it's everything I wish I could have for breakfast but never have time for. Did you bring in a new coffeemaker that I don't know about? 'Cause whenever I make it it's nowhere near this good."

"No, yours just needed a good, thorough scrub. That's why it tastes better. Now, what did you want to ask me?"

"Well, I guess your name would be a good start."

"Kate Dillon."

"But your initials..."

"I know. My full name is Katrien Elizabeth Dillon."

She and Sam continued to ask each other questions about college and work while they ate breakfast. The conversation between them was easy and relaxed, and the few silences that happened were comfortable ones. It was relaxed enough that she decided to take a leap and ask him the question she had from earlier.

"Sam, I know you told me that you went to Princeton, but why did you decide to go there?"

"Well, they basically gave me a free ride: tuition, room, board, all of it. The school sent the notification to the district superintendent instead of me. He presented it to me at graduation. I'd love to know if there were photos of that moment. I'd really like to see what my face looked like when the announcement was made."

"OK, financial aid is a valid reason."

"What do you mean, 'financial aid is a valid reason'?" He looked at her warily. "Princeton was my first choice. I'm very thankful that I was able to go."

"Well, I guess now I do have a valid basis for my question." She tipped her head slightly. "I'm from New York, so I have to ask this question. Are you sure that you were clinically sane when you made your initial decision about Princeton?"

Sam blinked at the question. "Um, yes, I'm fairly sure I was at the time." He looked at her with a mixture of hurt, confusion and anger on his face. Where in hell had that come from?

"I didn't mean to upset you and I'm sorry if I did. I'm surprised that you didn't pick up the habit when you worked in Manhattan."

"What habit?" He was really confused now.

"Well, New Yorkers are pretty much trained from birth that New Jersey is the armpit of the world. When I first moved down here, whenever someone told me that they were from New Jersey, my reply was always, 'I'm sorry.' It's just a matter of habit and pride."

"But you're not from New York, you're from Massachusetts."

"I picked it up pretty quick when I got to college. I've lived in New York for nearly 9 years. If I didn't act like a New Yorker, I'd be very concerned. I've always been proud to be one, and that'll never stop." Sam smiled to himself. She could be very forceful and defensive if challenged, and she didn't even care that they hadn't known each other 24 hours. He tried to bring the conversation back into shallow water and asked her the question he knew would settle his internal argument.