There was that browarch again, the one that said, quite clearly, he didn't trust Damon any further than he could throw him. But he unfolded all the same, making his way easily down the stairs and opening the door to a grinning Johanna.
He reeled for a moment, inwardly more than outwardly, but he did take a step back all the same, the movement startled, wholly involuntary, though that moment was all he needed to process the differences, Johanna was taller than Katherine had been, not much, but enough, and there were a dozen other minuscule differences that very nearly slammed themselves into place before he could panic.