Noah knew exactly what kind of girl this was. She was pretty. Maybe a little too pretty, if there was such a thing. He was a hot-blooded young American male - he was going to notice how attractive she was upfront. But that didn't mean she didn't have a 'type'. Those suburban girls were just like "upper East-siders" in Manhattan, coming into the heart of the city when a new trendy restaurant opened, or some hipster bar where they could flirt with guys who wore jeans tight enough to cut off their circulation. 

He looked her over as she fumbled over her words, over her phone, over her purse and wallet to hand him two dollar bills. He kept quiet through the whole thing, his brows in a fixed raised position and his expression pretty blank. She was doing enough talking for the both of them, and he just took a deep breath. "Keep your money." He knew she didn't mean it in anything but an apologetic way, but Noah had made a vow a long time ago to never be anyone's 'charity case', in any way, shape, or form. He looked past her for a moment, and the walking commute of people heading off to their jobs for the day, and there this young thing was, looking lost in the city, heading to a restaurant. 

Still, he knew that some shred of kindness and respect was within him somewhere. If he'd left a young girl stranded on the street, he thought about what his mother might say - after she whacked him across the head. Noah's exterior was a tougher shell than his interior, even though he tried to hide that to the best of his ability. 

"You don't need a phone map. Where ya headed? I can tell you the quickest way there." In helping, of course, he knew he was making himself even later for work, and he really had no reason to be anything but slightly annoyed and caffeine-deprived, but for as frazzled as this girl looked, some string of guilt would have tugged at him if he didn't at least point her in the right direction.