However she may feel about those who contributed to her long-suffered self-imprisonment, Daphne knows she is simply an immortal who walks among gods. She bows her head in kind as greeting, hands now folded neatly (and perhaps a bit coldly) in her lap.

"I am no lady, Lord Eros," she retorts. A technicality, perhaps, but to Daphne an important one. "But I will not send you away."