The smack brought Davian out of his downward spiral and he stood with a hand on his cheek, stunned, staring at Paxton. Mutely, he nodded, mouth moving in the words 'got it' without sound. While Paxton couldn't erase all of Davian's fears that his worst nightmare was coming around the bend to rain hellfire, his brother's firm tone made the sloth demon quiet down. His glamours blurred back onto his skin, his eyes returning to their human-normal almost nondescript brown. Davian even extended the subconscious effort to shorten his claws back to blunt - but still black - fingernails.
Davian always responded to power. A little violence never hurt, either. He'd been set adrift since being exiled and having Paxton around made Davian shape up the way a demon should. Demons were meant to operate in communities. A wasp without a hive was a dead wasp. Paxton gave Davian that focus again, that drive to direct his future. Without Ambriel by his side, Davian was that dead wasp. Luckily, Paxton cared enough to get Davian back on course.
"But..." Davian paused, shrinking back a step to avoid getting smacked again as he worked out this thought. "They don't know I'm his spawn too." Sure, Davian thought, he was a Rivera like everyone in the clan was a Rivera. But Paxton meant something else. They weren't coming for them because they were Riveras. They were coming for Paxton. Davian's eyes widened and he stepped forward to grip the front of Paxton's shirt with both hands. "Pax! You have to get the fuck to safety! You can hide somewhere!" It was always Davian's first instinct, to run and hide. HE shook Paxton for emphasis.