"Which one's that?" Will wasn't very good at geography, okay. He preferred to draw his own maps, where if he messed up one of the lines, nobody knew, because he'd made it up himself. Still, he has a vague idea of Canada, broken into blocks above various portions of the USA, so "the one above California/Texas/New York" would suffice. Sam's question gets a nod, and Will holding his hands apart to signify the length of the country. "About right here, yeah," he says, gesturing to a spot about 2/3rds of the way across the distance.

He's on alert the minute she starts shaking her head, and if Sam's paying attention to his aura/mood/anything, the anxiety spikes like a Richter scale in an earthquake. Even when she speaks and clarifies, the tension stays. "Are you sure? It's...there's a lot." There's not, not really, but even at twelve Will has the money-awareness of someone raised in poverty. Any amount of money is a lot.