Varian approached cautiously, his steps slow, unsure.
"Oh… you're awake," he said, scratching the back of his head.
Daemon turned to face him, stretching his arms and flexing his fingers. "Yeah. I am." He glanced around. "More importantly… who's steering this ship?"
"There's one guy," Nyxtriel answered, calm and steady. "An ex-pirate. Said he's sailed half the world before getting caught smuggling cursed relics."
Daemon raised a brow. "Convenient."
Then his crimson gaze shifted back to Varian, who was clearly trying not to fidget.
Daemon's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Are you afraid of me now? And here I thought you said I was 'fun to be around.'"
Varian chuckled nervously. "You are still fun. It's just back there, you were… different. Like, demon-from-a-nightmare different. I'm surprised you're not still wearing the horns."
Daemon smirked. "Oh, I still have them."
He raised one hand and flexed.
