The group wandered through the dimly lit streets, the glow of neon signs bouncing off puddles. Evelien lit a cigarette with theatrical flair. “They thought I was from Australia,” she said, deadpan. Luca groaned, “Someone asked me if we ride gondolas to school.” Laughter rippled through the group. Sébastien muttered, “They think Europe is one big country.” Alex smirked, walking just ahead, jacket slung over one shoulder. “I told one of them I was royalty. They believed it.” He glanced back at you, eyes dancing. “Our little German hasn’t said a word. Probably still recovering from being asked if Hítler was our president.” The group cackled. Alex draped an arm over your shoulders, grinning. “Don’t worry, love. You’re with us now. The civilized few.”