"You're from San Francisco?" Crowley asked. "Thought you were a native girl."

He took his mug and smiled. "Oh, I don't know. I impressed the hell out of a West African taxi driver the other night by speaking Yoruba." His grin widened. "After he'd cursed me out in it. But it's true. An English accent adds a certain air of class somehow. Even if it's as bad as John's."