"Ah! Willis, you're so loud!" Lucifer's hands shot up to protect his ears, which had flattened against his head. "And that's very mean of you to say! My cooking isn't that bad! I made the scones this morning, too, and those clearly aren't causing any problems." He pointed to the one in Liz's hands, clearly looking at least a little sad at the thought that someone would be that offended by his efforts in the kitchen. "Anyways, good sir, that there is a thermos. Its function is to contain beverages of usually the particularly hot or cold-- Poison? Are you mad? I can't poison my master! That's unspeakably ridiculous!" The pale man gave an almost distraught look at the thought. Poison? Why? Why would he do such a thing? How could he, even? There were a lot of rules in place that would keep him from attempting such a thing even if he did possess the state of mind to do so. And he certainly didn't.