“South America, you say?” She said, dropping the book a bit so that she could focus the whole of her attention on him. Jamie had always held a certain sort of fascination for South America, finding it a vivid place that had served her well in the realms of creativity in addition to being a fine place in which to handle her business matters. She could not help but dryly make a note of how bored she must be in the hotel to give a man her full attention at the mention of South America, but there was nothing to be done about that. Outside of his curious compulsions, his apparently extensive traveling was the most interesting thing he’d shared with her thus far.

“Lovely there, isn’t it? For the most part, I mean.” She tapped her finger on the spine of the book, feeling the worn edge of the leather before asking. “Was that very long ago, or--?”

His mention of her book brought her mind back around again, and she flipped the cover over to reveal the title to him. “It’s about racism in the first half of the twentieth century,” she said. “Told from the perspective of a child of a lawyer who is attempting to defend a black fellow accused of rape in Alabama. I never got around to reading it when I was younger but, well, it’s proving very earnest thus far. Haven’t you ever heard of it? It’s a staple in most high school English classes these days, but I missed that boat somehow.”