Go somewhere more private.

“Want to go somewhere a little quieter?” you ask over the din of the television. Marie nods, rising from her chair. You tell Penelope she can use the phone line to get onto the internet as long as she doesn't let herself be traced. Penelope sends back a sort of nonverbal agreement. At least she isn't arrogant enough to think that it can't be done, or that he is treating her like a PC newbie. You lead Marie into the master bedroom. “Kids these days.” you mutter once you can hear it. “You’d think she was half-deaf the way she runs that television.”

“Ah reckon.” Marie said with a smile. You brush her forehead and touch her mind ever so gently, seeking out the sector you want and making the appropriate changes. “I...what? What did you do?” she asks, the twang completely absent from her voice.

“A little present from a friend.” You reply. “Usually we call it the Gift of Tongues. I also made it so you can speak to an interviewer when you go in for your next job without sounding like you just fell off the possum wagon.” She glares at you, which only causes you to chuckle softly. “Don’t worry, you can still talk like Reba McIntire around your friends if you want to. You just have to decide to.”

“But why...how?”

“It’s a long story.” You say. “I’d like to tell it to you, if you want.”