"Oh, thank you, that's quite sweet." She turns to survey the house, then, once it seems their target has retired to bed, slinks up to the space under the window. She could pick the locks and go in through the door, but that's always so boring, and climbing up the outside to shimmy open a window is far more entertaining.
Their target's awake when she arrives, but facing away, which means Decima can ever so gently slide the window up, let Moira in to find the man's daemon - a calico cat, sleeping under the bed - and pad over behind him.
She'd prefer to paralyze him. Let him fear for a long, long time as she paints the room in his blood. But that's just about one of her signatures at this point, and this is a long game she's playing. She can play with later prey.
(It'd be best if she could kill him without a mark, but, well, a knife across his throat suffices just as well. He gurgles a bit and collapses, and his daemon startles then fades.)
Decima exits the same way she came in, easing the window closed behind her, and climbing easily to the ground.