[The eyebrow quirk gets a flicker of a smile from Koby, shy and a little unsure, something in the back of his mind always warning him careful, careful, be careful around anyone new. The sun is out and bright and warm, and the air smells like the chlorine from the pool, and for once he lets his guard down, somewhat.] I thought you might not be. You, um – your accent. It sounds different from most of the Americans I’ve met.

[The mention of the outcome of poor Lincoln – shocking and horrifying to a young man with zero awareness of such a pivotal, major world event – gets a frown, and Koby leaning over to set his book on a small side table, exchanging it for his rapidly melting drink. Something fluorescent, watered down by the ice, the glass slippery with condensation. He holds it in both hands as he sips, looking thoughtful.]

I wouldn’t want that sort of responsibility. There’s so much I don’t know or understand -- about this world, about mine, about the nature of people. I would’ve said “a fair one”, even a year ago, but… [Koby shrugs helplessly, nudging his glasses back up his nose with a fingertip.] Now I’m not sure what that means. Unquestioning freedom for everyone is also an unquestioned ability to do harm. But control isn’t the solution either, so…

…what about you?