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them?”
    “Well… some people are sick. Some cough or sneeze on their hands. Some go to the restroom and don’t wash their hands. And… well, not all of them take the time to clean their hands before they… well, you know. They touch the scanner and get on the train. And then I touch the scanner and everything that might be left behind.”
    His lip curled. “That is a truly disgusting line of thinking.” He paused, and she noted that his eyes flicked down to his hands. I’m touching human germs, he thought. He took no care to shelter his thoughts, thinking her incapable of hearing. She struggled to keep her face straight. He nodded. “What was the thing you used on your hands?”
    “Oh, the towel? I just started bringing them with me to clean my hands after getting on the train.” Patience, she told herself. I must remain patient.
    Porthos nodded. “Do you think those towels would clean these hands?” He held them up and wriggled his fingers, winking at her.
    She forced herself to smile. “I’m sure that your hands don’t need cleaning.”
    He sighed. “I do keep myself fully cleansed, my dear. Alas, as you’ve noted, not everyone does.” He paused a moment. “Do you, by chance, have more of those towels available?”
    Success. “Let me check.” She opened her purse and made a show of rummaging around. “As it turns out, I do have extras. Would you like one?” Not too pushy, she hoped.
    He nodded. “I would.” He held out his hand.
    She pulled out one of the towels and handed it to him, careful not to touch his skin. But he clasped her hand as he took the towel. His eyes flickered for just a moment, as if he remembered something, but the look quickly faded. “Thank you, my dear.”
    “My pleasure,” she replied, and she sat back in her seat.
    It was an effort in concentration. She sent nanos from the towel into his hand and through the rest of his body, looking for any trace of the gel, and extracting it back to the towel. Porthos finished wiping his hands off. “I do feel a deeper sense of cleanliness than before.” He paused. “What shall I do with this?”
    She’d been trying to figure out how to get the towel back without offending, and he’d offered it to her. Luck favored her this day. She turned back toward him “You can hand it back to me. I have to take care of mine as well. It won’t be any trouble to do the same for yours.”
    She reached to take the towel, but he held on as she pulled. “Tell me your name.”
    “Phoebe,” she replied. It was the name she’d long used with her current look.
    “Phoebe,” he said, swirling the name like a fine wine. “A lovely name. I thank you for sharing your insight and… accessories.” He paused. “I look forward to seeing you around Headquarters. What department do you work in?”
    She was caught off guard, a rare occurrence, but she’d avoided listening to his thoughts while standing so close for fear of losing control of her Shield. And she had no obvious department name in mind. She tried changing topics, letting her eyes go wide as her hand went to her mouth. “Oh my goodness. I thought… but it couldn’t be… you’re really… you’re Mr. Sebastian, aren’t you? I’m so sorry, sir, I shouldn’t be in this car, and—”
    He laughed. “My dear, I’ve enjoyed your company a great deal. It’s no bother at all. I—”
    The train slowed to a halt as he spoke, and his face turned serious. “I’m sorry to cut this short, Phoebe. Busy day. Lots of important plans to develop. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”
    And with that, he walked out of the train, leaving her behind.
    The cool, fresh outdoor air swirled into the cabin as a stony expression covered her face. “Oh, you’ll see me around all right,” she muttered.
    She waited until she was certain nobody looked into the car—she’d been the only passenger in the car with Porthos—snapped her nanoskeleton around her body and went invisible. Only then did she