LEX LONDON ran his hands through his hair, pacing around the apartment.

"How did she know my surname? How could she have known who I was?" he asked Isabel, "is it that obvious? Was it the hair? The voice? The name?"

The black cat purred soothingly from her spot on his laptop - she'd moved several times while Lex had gotten dressed, but had finally settled for the warm metal thing that smelled like Lex - and Lex growled, halting in front of the mirror in the passage.

His brown hair was ruffled up the way he liked it, standing in all directions at once. It was long, but not long enough for it to droop downwards by its own weight, and certainly not long enough to tie it.

"Do I need to cut my hair?" he enquired, biting his lip, "it is pretty recognizable, isn't it?

Isabel meowed dismissively, and Lex scrutinized himself in the mirror.

Nobody had ever seen Lex London in anything but a black sweater and sweatpants, and only ever on security cameras. And later in the classic orange prisoners' garb, of course, during the short time he'd been imprisoned at the BRSS. Neither was really close to the cyan shirt he was wearing now, which said "Forget Feminist, I'm a Felinist", paired with a dark blue jeans and black-and-white sneakers. And he'd always worn his sweater with the hoodie up to hide his hair and sleeves as long as possible to hide the scar on his wrist. All to make him less recognizable.

To be fair, the only way anyone would be able to recognize him was if they remembered him from the news, back when he'd been caught on the field. Since his escape he'd made the papers a couple of times, but only with old photos because nobody knew where he was.

He smoothed down his hair, but it sprang right back up again.

"I think I have some gel somewhere," he muttered, moving to the small bathroom to search through the cabinets. He found the gel, massaging it into his hair and flattening down the stubborn peaks.

He glared in exasperation at the mirror.

"Now I just look like an idiot."

He slicked it backwards, so that the end of it touched his neck.

"And now I look like Loki with brown hair... You're trying to convince people that you're not a criminal, Lex!"

He ruffled it again and smoothed it down just a little.

"That looks... okay," he mumbled uncomfortably, his hands itching to ruffle it up again.

He walked back to Isabel again.

"Hey Isabel, it's me, Lex, do you recognize me?" he asked with a cheesy smile, and the black cat replied with a death glare.

"All right, that wasn't funny," Lex sighed, "But I'm kind of out of ideas. Do I take up a fake name? I have to stick to Lex, because otherwise I'll mess up way too quickly. Lex Dublin, then? Or Lex Honolulu? Or just dump the city name altogether. Lex Lestrade. Is it too obvious that I made that up?"

Isabel continued to glare him down, before stretching and hopping off Lex's laptop. She booped her nose against a Sherlock poster on the wall, and Lex sighed.

"Yes I know, Lestrade is from Sherlock, but do you think anyone else would notice? It's not like they could sue me for copyright if it's my surname, right?"

Isabel sat down, eyeing him with that skeptical cat gaze.

Lex sighed again.

"Maybe I should just work on taking my attention off that for a moment," he mumbled to himself, "Madame was right about one thing - I need a job."

Isabel leapt off her spot, jumping to the kitchen countertop, where she picked up a small set of keys in her mouth. She trotted back to Lex, dropping the keys on his laptop.

"No Isabel," Lex sighed, scratching her ear fondly, "a real job. Nothing illegal, remember?"

Isabel brought the keys back with an air of disappointment, and Lex opened his laptop, sinking into his chair.

"I could go work in an office somewhere. Sitting still isn't really my thing, but I have to start somewhere. Maybe something in the software department."

He paused.

"Although on second thoughts, the people in all the big software companies know me a little too well."

He propped his elbows onto the desk, staring at the computer screen.

After a few moments of blind staring, he typed in 'Jobs near me'

The first three results were for all the usual - delivering newspapers, working at a fast food restaurant, and some lawnmowing service. Nothing that would be able to sustain both him and Isabel for long term. The fourth result was a social media page belonging to one Steve Jobs.

Lex shut his laptop with an agitated huff, turning to Isabel.

"Any other suggestions?" he enquired.

Isabel met his gaze with an intelligent stare of her own, her sparkling green eyes boring into his mind until he was forced to avert his eyes.

"Didn't think so," he mumbled.

He grabbed the armful of laundry that was still scattered over the coffee table, folding it as he tried to think. His frustration meant that the folds were anything but neat, but that wasn't important. He finished quickly, stuffing the scruffily-folded clothes into the closet of his small bedroom.

Lex walked back to the equally compact living room, standing still in between the kitchen and the couch as he tried to think of another solution.

Coffee is the solution to everything.

He walked back to the kitchen, reheating the water that was still lukewarm from Madame's visit. He allowed himself to block off all other distractions while he focused on preparing the cheap powder coffee, trying to overlook the fact that, according to the label, it had been roasted months ago and had probably lost all of it's true flavour. Of course the label didn't put it quite like that - they were a bit more subtle - but Lex knew his interpretation was spot-on nonetheless.

He finished his preparations and swallowed a mouthful of the cheap liquid, ignoring the heat and the taste in order to let the caffeine work it's magic.

"I could work anonymously as a CEH," Lex suggested a moment later.

Isabel watched him disinterestedly.

"Certified Ethical Hacker," Lex explained.

"Meow," Isabel answered, which Lex interpreted as I knew that.

He took another nip of the hot coffee.

"It basically means I hack for a good cause. Y'know, legally."

"Meow." Like I said, I knew that.

"It won't earn me a lot," Lex went on, rocking the mug of coffee in his hand so that the dark substance almost spilled over the brim. Almost, but not quite - an art he had mastered over the years.

"Especially if I want to stay under the radar," he added as an afterthought, "otherwise I could make quite the load of cash."

He paused again.

"That is, if anyone would've hired me to begin with."

Lex sighed, taking another sip of coffee and cringing at the cheap taste. He almost doubted whether attempting a legal workstyle would be worth the horrid coffee, but pushed the thought away.

"Maybe that's what I'll do," he mumbled, "pick up a job as CEH, just until I find something less risky."

Isabel didn't answer; she was rigorously licking her paw.

Lex poured the dregs of his coffee down the drain, making a mental note to buy a good coffee machine whenever he could afford it.

Oh well, the caffeine had served his purpose. He had a plan, and he would carry it out to the best of his ability.