It had started off as a meaningless safety precaution.

"When seated in the car, you may do what you will, however, I suggest you appear occupied. You will also require a pseudonym while in contact with these people. Anything will do, as long as it is not a name that may be linked to you. I suggest you regularly change such a name; it would be unfortunate if it became associated with you."

She knew there was no point in creating a fake name; the majority of the people carried in the car would not care; they were either going to be supremely dimwitted or extremely powerful. However her new boss was watching her intently, so she had merely nodded and smiled.

He had replied with a tightlipped smile of his own then tapped his umbrella against the concrete of the warehouse, "Excellent."

At first, it had been easy.

A new name for a new person. "What's your name, then?" "Grace". "Hey there, beautiful, what's your name?" "Janet". "And you would be?" "Patricia". It had been fun, thinking up a different name each time. It was a game she rarely gave thought to beforehand; it had to be spur of the moment, it just wouldn't be fun otherwise.

But then it became more and more difficult, ferrying more than three people a day, seven days a week since she began this job had her running out of ideas. Whenever somebody asked, names of people she knew jumped to the forefront of her mind and they rattled about her thoughts, making it increasingly difficult to think of a new name.

So she went abstract.

She had flown through all the Roman, and then Greek, goddesses, brought about when a portly man with an ill-fitting moustache in a three-piece suit warily asked what her name was. "Venus" she had replied, non-plussed despite having grasped at straws, her mind eventually, peculiarly, came to rest upon one of the beauty products she had used that morning.

She had used her final "Demeter" that morning when a well-dressed woman with thin lips had looked down her long nose at her constant texting and inquired, none too politely, what her name was. The woman had sniffed at the reply and had disdainfully resumed smoothing her unruffled skirt.

This man, now, was initially quiet. He had been picked up in an uncommon, but not unusual, manner. He walked with a limp, but sat straight in the car seat. He wasn't neatly dressed when compared the vast majority of those who had sat in that very seat before him, but seemed quick-witted. Must be a personal case.

Her fingers flew over the keys on her phone, halting only when the man had asked what her name was "Ahh, Anthea", she said, unprepared and resorting to the name of her second cousin. Damn, she was going to have to start looking up names beforehand.

AN: This was randomly written up a while ago with very little research: Wiki for the godesses bit, I don't check if Anthea actually stops texting when John talks to her. Oh well, thought I'd publish this anyway.