Not Remy, that's for sure - though his habit of hanging around Casa de Ladies is more out of a desire to make sure they're okay and that Kate doesn't feel isolated than any obsessive anti-mold paranoia. For the past several minutes, he's been half underneath the kitchen sink, tweaking and fixing, because you can never be too careful with old pipes, and just because something has been precariously working again for a few days doesn't mean too much.

Serenaded by the dulcet tones of a hair drier, he misses every other beep of his CiD. He is aware, because he saw her shoes, that it's Kate that's keeping him company in the kitchen, but they haven't spoken yet. Setting aside his wrench, Remy gropes for his communication device to see what he's been missing, still under the sink.