Catching a quick glimpse of the zombies from outside the shelter, Daemon blinked a few times, not being able to hold back that same smile that seemed to just bite and bite at his sibling's nerves. What seemed to be a giggle erupted from his lips, but of course, it was a manly sound. Letting one of his legs move to hang over the edge of the couch, his head turned to watch his sister shut the blinds roughly, sensing the tension filling up in the room from that action alone. His expression quickly solemned as he tilted his cheek down to his shoulder. Well, now he just felt kind of bad for acting like an ass. It was what he was good at when communicating with relatives, especially with good ol' Nora. But, maybe he should soften up on her a tad, given the situation at hand. It could be an experience, at least, the test run of a new persona. Straighting up his spine with a grunt, Daemon sat with his back arching for a minute, trying to knock out a certain ache that chose to cling so lovingly against the bones. His back pains were a frequent joy for him, given the honor to have such a reoccuring sting as his father had, and his grandfather, and so on. Oh, the woes of being a man in this family. Raising to his feet, the boy tangled a couple fingers along strands of hair, tossing locks this way and that to get them just right into place. While gazing down, he cleared his throat, preparing to speak.
"I'm ready whenever you are. Just tell me what to do, where I'm needed.. and I'm there."
Acting like a Big Man, it was clear Daemon was trying to reconcile for how he had just acted towards Nora. Watching as the other female in the room left to gather her things, being that if he was blind he probably wouldn't have even noticed she left with how inaudible her steps came, his eyes slowly drifted back to the most assertive of the group. Tracing his fingertips along the belt keeping on his pants (even though they were tight enough to do that on their own), he sighed gently in relief upon reaching hold of the pistols kept against his body. If it weren't for those little helpers, he would not feel safe in this world even in the slightest. It was funny how a bullet could cut through a walking, decayed body so easily, and yet do nothing to them, except stop them short a few staggering steps. You had to get the money shot in order to hold a quick victory party, completed with red velvet cake and strippers, inside your head. Take aim quickly, make sure you have it right on the dot, hold steady.. BAM. And there goes a good chunk of zombie skull, all over the kitchen floor. What would be the use of cleaning up after making such a mess nowadays? Oh, how mother would be disappointed..