Daemon's eyes widened slightly at this sudden show of abilities - completely unexpected from the man, especially when he did it so nonchalantly. Daemon was impressed, both by the display and the man's composure about it, although it was overshadowed by his momentary worry for Chipp, who was flailing about trying to make sure all the flames were out, struggling with a persistent tongue of flame on his sleeve.

"Are you alright?" he asked Chipp, resisting the urge to lay a hand on his shoulder, not wanting to injure him further if he were burned beneath his charred and smoking clothing. Daemon turned a narrowed gaze on Harrington, his eyes cold, the temperature around them dropping a degree in response to his honed temper. It was a sharp contrast to the momentary heat of Harrington's flames.

"That was entirely unnecessary."

Although Harrington's answer had intriguing possibilities. "If Landel's the creator, the one with the answers, then how is Aguilar here now? And what does he want?" Daemon added, almost as an afterthought, his temper still dangerously on edge.