"I don't think that's lame, I think that's sweet," Rosie says, smiling at the warm, gentle contact of his hand. Her own answer takes a little bit of time, weighing the few places she'd been before against all the ones she dreamt for years of seeing, all the adventures she'd wanted to have. It had felt silly to want so many things so badly, when she'd been fifteen and trapped in Oxford, and it might be even sillier now that she's in Darrow--older, yes, but truly stuck rather than just feeling that way.

"The Pacific Ocean," she says. "Some little island, tropical and warm, where I can sit and watch the sun set into the water. I know I can do that here, go down to the boardwalk and everything, but it's not the same."