"Don't worry about it, you're not the only one," said Larry, the slope of his shoulders relaxed even as he was shaking soil free from the offending weed and tossing it aside on the grass. "If I were a betting man, I'd put money on my not knowing anything about wherever the hell you're from, either," he added, and tipped Johanna a glance, his face impassive but for the slightest wry upward twitch of his mouth and the crinkle at the corners of his eyes.

"Although," he blithely began again, turning back to the flowerbed, "I'm pretty sure there's some books on America in the library, if you actually give a shit."