Latin was difficult to focus on, but Wanda was trying to be diligent. She sat side by side with Daimon on the couch in his apartment, an ancient tome propped open on the coffee table. She'd been stifling yawns since she arrived. Wanda had been awake for the entire night before, anxious, as first some catastrophe brought a fleet of police and S.H.I.E.L.D. into the neighborhood and, after, when agents came door to door asking questions about witnesses. Then she'd been out in the city all day, partly to avoid any authorities with follow up questions and partly because she really did have errands to run. Going to Daimon's in the evening was a welcome excuse not to go back to her own home, but now she could barely keep her eyes open. The last thing she remembered was Daimon pointing at a line in the book, asking her a question, and she nodded and mumbled and then she was asleep.