He didn't pull away from Wanda, but recognized her appreciation with a quiet look. "There's no need to cry about it," Daimon muttered, mouth turned in a small wry crescent, and dropped his gaze. He didn't want to see her cry. If he was honest with himself, he'd probably seen enough misery in her mind to last him awhile. His own nightmares made room for it. Daimon wasn't the best person to be drawing comfort from, anyway, another demon. That excitable bleep of that machine must've been saying as much. Her friend must've thought so too. Out of no where came Jessica, to the rescue. Daimon took that as his cue to stand, squeezing Wanda's hand before he let go.
"Where the hell do you even come from?" he said under his breath as he passed the woman. She was intense, even for him. He made one more glance at Wanda from over his shoulder before he stepped out and closed the door behind him. Jessica walked up to Wanda's bedside, holding up a small plastic container of a small slice of cake, so thin that the narrow end of it drooped a little sadly to the side. "The nurses said you might be hungry when you woke up," she explained, a weak smile on her face. "This might not be what they had in mind, though."