Thinking of the woman she would be now if the revolution had never happened isn't something that Anya really thinks of regularly. Scattered thoughts of that possibility drift in every now and then, based on memories and speculation. If Russia had stayed like it had been under Imperial rule, would she have felt perfectly at home at parties like the one she just left? Would she have become a frivolous girl, caught up in the glitter and the flirtations, caring little for anyone outside of her circle? Would the Russian people remain a distant hypothetical, little creatures meant to be prayed for and minded, but never known?

She'd like to hope that wouldn't be the case, but there is no knowing. Instead she will simply experience this life in full, placing it against all of her memories.

Taking a few steps closer, a twinkle of light reflecting off the glitter that follows after her catches her eye. "I'm like a little star," she laughs as she uselessly tries to brush some of it away from her dress. "No, I didn't think you would or I'd have asked you to come when I heard of it."

Holding her small purse — little more than a pocket of fabric — with both hands, Anya tilts her head as she looks up at him. "I think I simply lost track of the time." Her mouth curves up into a teasing smile. "Isn't it a little late for coffee? You'll never get to sleep."