[Funnily enough, Sebastian's insistence on style is a direct result of how passionate he is about what he does. He can't help it if demons are reduced to being passionate about superficial things if everything is superficial and meaningless to a demon.
There's a small grove of planted trees not far away. Sebastian walks over. Unceremoniously breaks one of the smaller ones over his knee (that's property damage, inmate). There.]
Is that how you would phrase it? [How crass. How accusatory. What is the man insinuating - that he can tell right off what Sebastian is? That won't do; Sebastian can't allow that. After all, outwardly...] This is simply the calibre my master requires of his servants.
[The young master wants the best there is, so that's what Sebastian has to be. Simple as that.
Were Sebastian more prone to reflect on if he's feeling all right or not, he'd probably recognise his thoughts as unnecessarily defensive all of a sudden. But nah. He returns to Spike with his newly acquired torch in hand, still as outwardly calm and pleasant as before.]