Nor would I. [ Her memories of those instances are jagged, interrupted, those pieces she can remember all too fully as things she would rather forget — but no, in the case of what had transpired between them in the woods all she can recall is the complete absence of a threat, no dark tendrils finding their way into her consciousness before she can even perceive their effects. Instead, she thinks back to being laid bare, sun-dappled patterns cast upon her skin from the warm rays that had emerged through the canopy of trees above them, and him moving within her, firm and certain.

She does drain her glass then, quickly and all at once. ]

Yes, you'd said as much before. [ That he could scent something on her, perhaps an energy that made her different than others he had met; similarly, she feels a power emanating from him even if she hasn't yet learned its source, and it wouldn't be a stretch to consider the possibility that part of why she is drawn to him is because of what his soul emits. ]

I have laid down some wards. Peace of mind, and all that. [ She smiles briefly at him, that slow quirk of her mouth fading to be replaced with a thoughtfulness when he returns to his own seat. ] One can never be too careful. [ Even if that remark seems to contradict their past actions, the caution she'd thrown to the wind when drawing him down to her under the open sky. ]