Daemon lets himself be stabbed, maneuvering it into the flesh of his shoulder. It's the same place an arrow pierced him, once upon a war. Did he have any business being in that fight? Does he have any business being in this one? The thought makes him smile.

If he gets what he wants, it's not losing.

Daemon draws his blade down along this ruffian's arm, watching blood bead up like rubies. He would suck the blood off, if they weren't in public. (Daemon things they put something in his food.)

The handcuffs unlock with a gentle click.