Her mouth goes dry. She always knew there was a chance she may meet one as the war went on. It was so small for various reasons that she's thrown for a loop. She does what she does best: improvise with a bit of an attitude. "Elektra Natchios." She smirks, effortlessly switching to English even if her accent can't be hidden in any language, but French. "Are you American? I wasn't expecting that."