Anya's eyebrows lifted. Now she was extra confused about where she was. Last she'd heard, Russians weren't really running around America. But all the accents she was hearing around her sounded like they were speaking English. She worked to tune them out, given she was getting strange looks for her attire.
And then he confirmed that she was, in fact, in America. Curious. Kansas. What was that, exactly? Sometimes she really wished she'd learned more back in the orphanage, but education wasn't really a crucial thing for them. Skills, that was the important thing. Skills would turn them into good workers and, maybe, someday, good wives or mediocre husbands. But this meant that, when out in the world, she was kind of clueless.
And America explained a lot but not the fact that nothing around her even looked remotely familiar. Oh, the buildings were similar enough but she'd never seen anything that looked like the boxes with the colored lights or the fancy motorcars. Were things that different in the United States?
But the young man was at least speaking a language she understood now and she was grateful for that. She could tell it was difficult for him, though, she spoke slowly and chose her words carefully. Magic? Oh, she knew of magic. She hadn't believed in it, not really. But after the events of the last several days, even Anya had to wonder. "My name is Anya," she offered, then glanced down at the whimpering bundle in her arms. "And this is Pooka. By 'this'...you mean arriving in another country without intending to be there? I was meant to go to Paris. We're nowhere near there." She left magic alone. That was too strange. Was he serious?