Wanda raised her eyebrows, her smirk unaffected in the face of his idle threats. So that was how it was going to be? Clearly, he was just asking for defiance. Wanda's immediate answer to his bluff was to raise the stakes. She leaned forward and caught Daimon's mouth for a kiss, pulling away with deliberate slowness. She tilted her head, a mischief light in her eyes, as she asked, "Oh, we will?"
Insist all he wanted, Wanda was skeptical that his resolution would hold (she would make sure it didn't). How could she be expected to focus on his lesson when there were obviously more important things to consider? Like , for one, this night he apparently had planned. If it were, as she hoped, something romantic (rather than something more with Latin) then the only explanation for it was the holiday. That he would bother at all brought several questions to mind that would not be answered by a lecture on medieval rituals.
There were numerous options before her now as to how she ought to proceed and though the easiest would have been to acquiesce, Wanda anticipated little fun in that. Another viable- and more entertaining- alternative was to continue with tried and true physical methods until his resolve was completely worn down. What Wanda settled on was the pout, which she knew Daimon had a special weakness for. Reclining back in the chair, she puckered her lips and gave him her very best injured look. Failing this she would easily resort back to her second option.