He must have caught her scent at the same moment as she found him. Either that or she had watched him for a moment before dropping whatever shields she had used to hide her presence. It curled around him, caressing him like a lover. Older and yet still the same as it ever had been. He breathed in deeply, revelling in the feel of her so near. Witch. The woman he was born to be with -- the woman whose lover he had been born to be.
Slowly, Daemon turned his head to look at her. His eyes widened slightly as his mind melded the twelve year old he had known with the older woman who stood before him. Daemon sat up a little straighter, a ghost of a smile playing about his lips. As often as he had tried to get her to call him Daemon...
"Jaenelle?" he asked just as softly. He kept his hands clasped in his lap, unsure of where Protocol left them. Unsure of what to do -- and what had happened that night.