Waiting for Mr. Black to awaken, Ms. Black passed the time violating the digital poker machine on the bar. After spying a recognizable "tell" of the digital dealer, she asked the bartender for a faux-drunken-kiss to buy herself enough leeway to crawl around behind the bar to check the manufacturer of the poker device. Sure enough, the poker machine was running a CIA-funded poker program designed to turn ordinary, likeable, social people into bar-room loners more interested in CRTs than women. Sporting a girly "beginner's luck" grin, she entertained a crowd by buying rounds of drinks using funds provided by emptying the digital Poker machine's coffers through the .gov supplied "back-door".

As Mr. Black emerged from his groggy nap at the bar, Ms.Black considered his dating site "profile". "This man's quite a catch, even if a bit stupid. They shared a secret life of government intelligence! He smells good! He works out! A perfect match," she thought. As he came to, she consoled him with her non-goverment issued equipment and apologized for his bout of unconsciousness brought on by the nitrates in the California central coast wines used in the tasting. She asked him if he'd like to see a magic trick. Suddenly, in her left hand materialized a CIA security badge. "Abracadabra" she muttered as she batted her eyelashes and waved her hands mysteriously. "Now you see it, now you..." and with the DON'T appeared, in her right hand, an NSA security badge - the one, in fact, she had removed from his car. She said "I am a product of the Montauk Boys program, and have residual psychic and psionic powers from the experiments."
"I was able to determine straight-away your true identity, and employed a de-materialization/re-materialization mindwarp to recover your ID badge from the briefcase in the front seat of your car." At this point, be it due to the wine, the drug, or the woman, Mr. Black was completely without a sense of disbelief, and nodded approvingly and hung on her every word.

[Next...]