That was reassuring. At the first word out of Wicked's mouth, and a good one at that, Daisy slouched, relaxing and letting the chains take her weight. She chuckled darkly when Wicked was done, thinking that if they got out of this any time soon she might have to get the girl a chocolate cake, then rolled her head back to stare down their interrogator again, shrugging. There was nothing that she wanted to say to this fuckhole, not lies or anything like the truth, but the idea that he might resume his sick manipulation of her team was gnawing at her. She had to say something.
"They work for me," she repeated, slowly, as if he was stupid and couldn't be expected to keep up. "Does it turn you on, hurting little kids?" she continued, rolling her head just to throw a pointed glance towards her team mates, looking quite a bit older then than they should have, but still unquestionably too young to be whatever the psycho dirtbag thought they were. "You look like the type. Is it because no one will fuck you?" If this actually worked and Daisy got a rise out of him, she had to hope that he would direct his anger at her and the word vomit didn't backfire. "Or can you just not get it up?"