[Those steady strokes up and down his arms feel like petting--a temptation he can never resist, in cat or human form. He lets his eyes slip shut, remembering the lake at dawn, Camelot at night, the little boy who called him Mama. And the short time when he'd had everything, when despite the fear of being caught his soul had been afire with love, more than a demon ought to be able to hold.]

I missed you too. Always had an eye out. Never would've thought you'd be a wizard, of all things... suppose I should've known you would surprise me as well. You have a knack for it.