Paul just nods-- he doesn't really trust to his words, it's like a stupid comedy gone wrong, something like Groundhog Day but with an Irish twist, and he'd just as soon talk as little as possible.

He ends the call with a button click, and grimly returns his attention to his shopping things, shouldering his 'purchases'.

Home, and then to the bar...

Paul avoids speaking as much as he can, easy enough in a city full of Extras really, and slips in scanning those inside for Cain even as he heads for the counter. He wants vodka-- he always wants vodka.

"Pint o' Guinness, mate," is what comes out his mouth, and Paul groans.