"This place is fantastic!" Devon exclaimed, looking at the view. "Thanks; I really like it," Charlene said, smiling. "And you're still ... making a living cleaning houses?" Devon asked carefully. Charlene laughed. "It's okay to wonder how I afford this place; I get it. Yes, I still clean for a living but, no, it's not just houses. I also clean underground lairs." "What?" Devon settled on the leather sofa, looking confused. "Lairs, labs, chambers, and bunkers to be exact," Charlene continued. "It's a niche market." "Isn't it dangerous, though?" Devon reacted, stunned. "I mean - your brain is a map to every hidey hole for miles!" "It's not, really," Charlene responded, setting the tray of coffee and cookies on the ottoman. "I don't ever remember where I'm going, I just go there when it's time. My guess is that they zap me at the end of every session and wipe that info away. I don't mind; it's peaceful." Devon stared at her, open-mouthed; Charlene smiled and she dropped two sugar cubes into his cup.