The demons eyes trail over to his young master as he comes into sight, a subtle rearrangement of the crate so it balanced easily on one hip should his master decide that there was more to carry later. When it appeared though that Amano was carrying nothing of much significance the demon's attention -while focused on Amano- wandered enough to begin calculating their next move. The Lord briefly disappeared from his vision but his senses kept track of him much as a spider kept track of the vibrations of his web. What kind of 'butler' would he be if he allowed harm to calm to his little Lord in a moment he could not see him? A subtle and familiar smell briefly crossed his senses, throwing back memories he'd long since let go in his service to Lucifer. 

With Amano back in the forefront of his vision he finally answered the boy, "Things indeed went well [b]My Lord[/b]." About to elaborate further the demon was presented a flower and while at first his eyes had that same confused look as a child might if a bad taste lingered in their mouth his expression softened significantly. Flowers rarely moved him but there was one he cared for above most others, it's scent was subtle and delicate and it's flowers while pretty were plain in comparison to the ostentatious rose. It was [i]their[/i] flower he had said, back when the flower was called an angel's skirt and was simply pure white, before the fall, before they were cast to a place no flowers grew and the gates were slammed shut behind them. Before their wings had burned and the only smell was burning feathers, back when they were still [i]his[/i] children and not his examples. 

He knew these flowers, stained with blood like the hands of the fallen, another, subtle, reminder that they were forever stained with blood and scorned by god. While he had no need for sentiment or emotion Illiendi reached for the petals of the bell and ran a finger in a feather light touch across the waxy petals. "They are indeed rare. Hell's Bell's is what you call them? Quaint and apt too." Gently the demon took the flowers from the prince, his warm hand sliding across the top of the Lord's fingers as he did so. "Thank you [i]Amano[/i]." The demons use of the name was tender, it had a soft note to it like one would expect of a piano or other fine instrument. For a moment the demon was quiet but as quiet and subtle thank you he added, "They used to be called Angel's skirts and they used to be pure white. They only ever grew where an angel had blessed holy ground." There was a brief twitch of a rather tender smile as the demon observed the flowers. 

It was quick to fade as the demon's nostalgia faded in the face of other memories and his usual stoic countenance returned. The flowers were gently placed in the top of one of the jugs, left with stopper removed at the bottom of the crate. "I managed to acquire our food supplies and some beyond the basics as well, they will be delivered later this day. There are still coins left and more purchases to be made however, do you wish to do those now or after you have eaten [b]My Lord[/b]."