Asmodeus laid it on thick. Daimon stood back in stoic silence, though inwardly couldn't pretend that the effusive parasite's cruel verbal affliction against Wanda didn't have some effect on him. And this was what she'd been going through for all this time? His jaw clenched as the monster brought him into it. A viciously low blow, if he weren't so completely disgusted by the creature, he might say that he was mildly impressed.
As it were, Hellstorm fixed his piercing gaze on him, held back the growl that nearly clawed its way to his lips. Fuck you. His faith in Wanda never wavered, still, he saw it unfit to step in for her, but she was beginning to falter and he figured she could use a little boost. Daimon reached out and pulled Wanda to him, tore his eyes away from Asmodeus only then to guide her hands away from her ears, and kiss her, ardent but meaningful. When he broke away, he held her spectral face in his hands, smirking, and against her lips he purred, "Give him hell."