Only a food would ever think that sight was just sight - the Force worked beyond such trifles as senses. Witness, for instance, the Miraluka. But the moment she senses his presence, though until she sees him she cannot understand it. If people were to be described as songs, his would be a dark symphony - and now there are discordant notes ringing out moment after moment, like many songs layered together.

Something has gone horribly wrong, to her sense.

By the time she sees him, she is already on edge, but what she sees is more of a demon than hell than a Son of Dathomir.

"Yes," she replies, carefully, hands near her sabers but not quite resting on them.