"YOU'LL FORGIVE ME IF I AM NOT SOMEWHAT DISMISSIVE OF YOUR HAREM WHEN YOU ARE AVAILABLE FOR CONVERSATION." Death replied, not batting an eyelash at the intimate term of address, mostly because he wasn't blinking at all these days, but also because he didn't particularly care. Apathy, stark, rank apathy was the name of his game these day, and also mindless self-indulgence in luxury to the point of gross excess, which he was discovering he found quite enjoyable. Those same unblinking eyes had followed the line of Satan's gaze to the woman who he immediately identified as Absinthe. "LADY ABSINTHE WOULD BE MORE CULTURED COMPANY FOR THE TOUR." He added, though it was doubtful that he actually wanted the goddess along. "YOU WILL ENJOY MY DECORATING, FATHER." He added with a brazen smile of his own.