"Careful Death, these are My wives you are speaking of," Satan warned, although the tone in His voice was far less menacing than it could have been had He cared more about the man's disrespectful words and had been less distracted by the way he did not so much as blink at being called sonny boy. If He had needed any more proof that something was definitely the matter with Death, this complete lack of a response was it. An actual shiver ran down Satan's spine when he was called father. Somehow, it sounded all wrong -- filthy, even -- when the word was said without the usual fear, doubt, repulsion or sarcasm.
Satan rolled His head on His shoulders and growled -- a demonic sound originating low in his throat. "I highly doubt a mere beverage, lovely and tasteful as it is, would be more cultured company than the very Queens of Hell themselves. However, despite your shameless insult to My excellent taste, I will accept your offer of being given a tour around the yacht. That is, providing more wine will be brought to us along the way." With a simple inclination of His head, one of the blindfolded men appeared beside them, offering to take the decanter of wine from Death's hands with so low a bow that his forehead very nearly touched his knees.
"Lower Demons... not worthy of laying eyes on the likes of Me and My company, but very loyal and hardworking."