[ The stakes had been incredibly high and they all came crashing down around her in a very horrible way that had left her reeling. And then she'd snapped out of it all and the ship had quickly followed suit. Literally. Julia wasn't mad about the romantic air their first exchange had taken on, even if she'd only imagined it. It felt electric and captivating and she'd wanted a chance to try again without the illusion of status standing in the way. Even if nothing comes from this coffee meeting, she was done with missed opportunities - part of her new resolution after losing Q back home... She was taking control of her life again.

And that was going to happen here, too. Julia was going to take the proverbial bull by the horns and see what happened.

The nostalgic suggestion has her previously conspiratorial smirk softening. ]

We could also write letters. In case the pebbles don't work. The windows to my bedroom may be a little hard to reach. The room in the attic had the most space for a growing book collection. [ Not impossible for the most determined, but her room had its downsides for late night romantic moments. Besides, she liked the tactile idea of letters, having something tangible to collect soothed the book lover in her. ]

As for the accent-- [ A highly inappropriate comment almost slips out, one that might've made a few of her friends proud. Instead, she shakes her head - taking a sip of her coffee before finding a different direction for her response. It's gentle, easily picking on the joke. ] I'll leave that up to you.