Julian's smile only widened. "So I see." He watches as she set down her pack, frowning slightly when she went out the door. But then she came back in, and he grinned. "I don't think I'm stuffy and British. When I checked in, I was sorta lean and Californian, but who knows what happens under anesthesia?" He reached up and patted his face, made a show of running his tongue over his teeth. "Teeth are good. Face hasn't changed. Hair still mine. I'd still kill for some coffee, and I don't feel any particular fondness for tea. I'm pretty sure I'm an American."