Noah picked up his cup, face drawn into a thoughtful expression. "Not since the last time we talked, I don't believe," he said, taking a sip. "I think I might be due." He was hedging a little, glancing toward the window as he spoke. He never liked contemplating the probability of a vision -- if he could only control it a little, he might have liked it more, but that had never shown any signs of being feasible.