By this time Isabella has produced some gloves in case that's important. She attaches a little American flag to one of them and waves it. "Do you speak English?"

It may be that the having gloves is why people were willing to talk to her! This driver has them on too. Her eyes narrow in confusion at the flag. She tries her own language again, but slower.

"Sorry! We only speak English. - And a little Spanish? Español?"

The driver pulls something up on her phone and reads it off in a slightly condescending tone. It's not English. Or Spanish.

"We only speak English!" She waves the flag. She swaps it for a UK flag, which is slightly inaccurate but should be recognizable.

Eyeroll.

The driver opens the door.

Gesture presumably intended to communicate 'well, do you want to get in or keep standing out there?'

After conferring briefly, they get in. Isabella has some trouble fitting with her wings; she scrunches.

She stares at the wings more up close, blinks a couple times, shoots Xander a displeased glance, and then starts driving. 

"Does he have a problem with the not wearing gloves thing?"

"Maybe, who knows. I can't grow you any."

"I'll take leather!"

"No can do, bro."

The driver turns on the radio. Past the maze of extremely tall industrial buildings there are residential ones, not quite as tall, significantly less shiny. The streets here don't have sidewalks either. The driver keeps going until the streets are a bit wider and the buildings a bit less shoddy and there's a wide, white building with big metal letters on the side, and then gestures that they should get out. 

"Is that the embassy?"

"I think the embassy would have a flag. Maybe it's a bus station or something." She gets out; Xander follows.

The driver takes more pictures of them and then zooms off. 

The building is, apparently, a homeless shelter. It's run by a harried-looking person with short-cropped hair who blinks in confusion at the wings and then says something unintelligible in an alarmingly perky voice. Behind her there are hallways and bunk beds, all of them visible because the walls between rooms are transparent plastic.  Some people are sleeping in the bunk beds. Some are watching TV on the couches. 

The harried-looking person repeats herself, looking concerned.

"We only speak English." Isabella waves the flag at her. "English. We're Americans. From the United States."

Xander is handed some gloves.

Isabella facepalms.

"When in Rome. Or wherever the fuck." Xander dons the gloves. "They all look maybe... Indian?"

The employee goes and gets a tablet and hands it to Xander. Now that she's stopped blinking at the wings she seems to find them distasteful. 

The tablet tries to talk to them in a bunch of different languages. Hundreds, apparently. 

Isabella shakes her head at language after language after language. "Xander... I don't recognize any of these."

"...wouldn't English be like the first thing they'd try?"

"Unless they started with Esperanto on principle, yeah, that's what I'd expect, but I don't even - that one sounded almost a little like Japanese or Italian maybe?"

When it's gone through a very long list it tries videos of some signed languages, and then written ones.