A single tone rings across the air of the room. Another follows, and another, each the same as the first. The sharp sound permeates Paul's unconscious senses, causing him to wake with a start. He snorts in air to his lungs and as most waking parties do, begin to make sense of their surroundings. His hands wander the armrests of the large chair he sits in, or more accurately, is draped in. They knock something off the edge, a cell phone that slides to the carpet with a muffled thunk. The ringtone quiets, telling him that the cell phone had been the source of the noise that awoke him.

He reaches down, grabbing for the device and glances at the caller-ID curiously. It's Chelsea. He answers.

"Hey, hey, hello," he says hurriedly, unsure of how long the phone had been ringing.

"Well good morning, Paul. Did I wake you?" says the charmingly sweet sound of his girlfriend's voice over the line.

"Yes...I, umm..." Paul trails off as he remembers the previous night. He'd been up late celebrating his graduation and ended up collapsing in an armchair at his apartment. There was something important though that he is forgetting.

"So, should I expect you today? Or do you need a few more minutes?" she asks teasingly, as if reading his mind.

"The brunch, sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to sleep in so..." he checks the time and cringes. "Err...late. I'll just be a few minutes and I'll head right over."

"Don't worry about it. I'll help rub the sand out of your eyes." The line cuts off and Paul looks at the phone in a moment of confusion before there's a knock at the door.

Rising to his feet, still clad in the clothes from the night before, he checks the peephole only to see Chelsea standing there with a mischievous smile on her face.

He sighs with a soft laugh as he unlocks and opens the door. "Hi," he says with some embarrassment, realizing he must look like a mess.

"Hi," she echoes as she leans in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Did you just get here?" he asks hesitantly, afraid to hear the answer.

"I may have tried knocking a bit, but I didn't want to wake the dead by pounding on your door."

"Ugh, sorry. I knew I shouldn't have drank so much." Paul moves to hug her in a gentle embrace before moving aside to let her in.

She returns the hug and strolls inside. "Oh please, three beers isn't 'so much'. But you deserve to celebrate a little. You've got your Masters now. Just think what you can do with a Masters of Psychology. You could teach, work as a counselor, go for your doctorate, or...keep chasing after ghosts." Her smile grows wider. She knew him too well.

Paul rolls with the joke. "Well, that's if LACH is able to keep its funding from the university next year. But my folks say I should keep my options open."

She takes Paul's arm and pulls him along to the bathroom where she starts fussing over his appearance. "Of course that's what they say. They want what's best for you, and Paranormal studies isn't exactly the career they envisioned for you."

"Yeah, well, I guess it's not exactly what I envisioned either. I thought it'd be cutting edge stuff, pioneering our understanding of mmrrrfft," he stops short as Chelsea stuffs a toothbrush into his mouth. He begins to brush.

"Of the human condition, the inner cosmos, the light in all of us?" she suggests as she rounds the corner towards his bedroom where she begins pulling out clothes for him to change into. Her voice travels the few feet to Paul's ears over the sound of toothpaste lathered over his molars. "They're important questions, Paul, and you've always wanted to get those answers. I'd say that's worth the effort."

Paul spits into the sink. "Yeah, but sometimes I worry about this life, finances, and about us, you know?"

Chelsea's head appears in the door frame to eyeball him. "You just leave the bread-winning to me and follow your dream. That's why I went into Business, after all."

Paul smiles back at her, knowing she means every word of it. They'd never actually made any plans about marriage or what sort of life they'd share, but it is something that never needed to be said. He knew she'd always be there for him and he'd always be there for her.

"I think the tweed makes you look sort of professesor-y, don't you think?" she says, showing off his jacket on the hanger. "It's all about presentation and making them think you're the smartest man in the room."

Paul laughs and nods his agreement. What would he do without her?