"Of course not," he leaned back into his chair, propping his elbow on the armrest, his knuckles grazing the roguish smirk on his lips. "On the contrary, the scratches on my back suggest you rather enjoyed yourself.” Not to mention the insinuation of a “next time”. Tapping the edge of the armrest, Daimon straightened up a little and reverted to Tony and the failed outing that ultimately brought her here. There was something awfully complex about their relationship, he could tell. Ever since the party and all its awkwardness, and those fleeting moments of mention, Daimon could sense that Wanda harbored some kind of feelings for him. And now here he was, sitting here with her in the aftermath of...reckless desk sex. Huh.
“Anyway, I understand how difficult that must be for you.” Daimon kneaded his brows together. “The separation between you and your brother, I mean. I sympathize. After my mother lost her mind, my sister chose to stay in Hell with my father while I went off to an orphanage. We were young then, and probably not nearly as close as you and your brother were, but despite our differences, there was still that reciprocated feeling of betrayal, however fleeting it might’ve been. We could’ve been close--closer, maybe--but...” He shrugged, having accepted a long time ago that a relationship between brother and sister was never meant to happen and was perfectly content with where he was now. Good for her if she was too.