With an arched brow, a look of mock surprise played across Daimon's face. More than anything, he was entertained by the woman's lechery, and in response he blithely remarked, "I don't know what kind of girl you think I am..." a slow devilish grin on his lips, "but you're probably right." Wicked wouldn't get to find out; just then, SHIELD vehicles became visible from the street, driving toward the festival. It didn't have shit to do with him, but he was still their "fugitive". Better to be safe than sorry.
"A pleasure, Wicked." Daimon winked, and he left the park, walked away a mystery. The Prince of Hell preferred it that way.