“So that’s why you always run around with that silly hat,” she said softly.

Leo’s eyes went wide. It was him. It was Indy, speaking to a nervous satipo in perfect, clear Spanish. The translation wasn’t stiff or robotic. It was alive .

Ding.

“Put on the Spanish track,” Leo said, his voice hushed.

“Abuela! Abuela, cierra los ojos!”