"That's me, woman of mystery," Jules replies, her voice taking a slightly dramatic tone for those last few words, even as she shoots him a teasing grin. Truthfully, she doesn't know how mysterious she actually is. In a lot of ways, she feels like an open book, someone who wears her heart on her sleeve and doesn't really give a fuck about people's judgment. On the other hand, though, there's a lot of shit she just doesn't talk about, things she keeps buried beneath carefully curated surface layers.

She's trying to do less of that these days, or at least not to let those layers — to let her femininity itself — be shaped by what she thinks men will want or expect. She's no one's dream girl; she's just herself. And, hopefully, Eddie won't have an issue with all of what that entails.

"So, uh, anyway," she continues, only slightly awkward because she really doesn't know how this is going to go. "I'm trans. I was, uh, assigned male at birth. Which, clearly that didn't stick, I started transitioning years ago, I'm on hormones and shit. But the only actual surgery I've had is a boob job, so, you know." She shrugs. "Figured you should know before taking me home with you."

Casual as she might sound, it isn't really something she can take too lightly. She's heard far too many horror stories for that. Besides, she wouldn't want to go out with someone who'd be an asshole about her gender. At least if it's going to be an issue, she'll know now, before they go any further.