Daimon gasped for air, back arched as if she'd put hooks in him, tugging at him even after the connection broke. He hit the pavement again and gritted his teeth, twisting his body around to push himself up, his mind reeling from what she had done, dredging up memories he'd left in the darkest shadows of his mind. Breathless, he got himself into a crouched position, one of those memories tattooed beneath the burns on his back, cloaked figures and arcane symbols, moving and changing, until the entire image seemed to fade. His anger bubbled up in his chest, though he'd contained it, taking in the stranger's apology, her voice much clearer to him now.
"No," he refused, his voice sharp and rough, like he'd swallowed gravel. "Don't. Just--" Daimon hissed, his arms trembling beneath his weight as more bullets fell out of him. "Go." If those trigger-happy assholes were looking for him, he wasn't going to invite anyone into that shitstorm, no matter their power-set. "Go," he demanded, watching her from the corner of his blood-shot eyes.