Luciel wasn't the hostile type; being surrounded was no surprise or cause to be alarmed since the impression was that it was all to be expected. Never would he ever draw a blade before the first blow was slung, though he was content with being the finishing motion. This in mind, the looks of scorn and suspicion were nothing new. Seeing it from a collection of surrounding spirits fed into the content ideology that at least he was being taken seriously before the words from Lucille mentioned that the creature didn't intend on running. It wasn't much in the way of concern as far as the esper was concerned, since two to three dozen amounted as much as one or two flicks of the wrist to have lesser beasts bound and answering for their shortcomings.
Harming a single hair on the furry bodies of the spirits was only a secondary consideration, assuming civilities fell on the deaf ears that he expected from glorified 'ghosts'.

No, Luciel came to know this class of monster as a sensitive sort that preemptive strikes yielded little result other that continued conflict. 

In response to the bark of the immature spiritual beast that disgraced themselves and their purpose in defacing what was supposedly sacred land, Luciel offered a simple disinterested huff of a scoff. 'Staying in check' depended on the actions of the actions those they were surrounded by. If a single one attacked, it'd certainly be a mess for those and theirs who joined in the foolhardy assault.
It wasn't Luciel's business to fight, only resolve...and an attack on him was an affront on lady Lucille whom the albino sought to protect.

All of this considered, the comedy in Luciel's expression was palpable. Never for a single second did he entertain a single notion slung by lesser or greater spirit. His job was to ensure that no call would go unanswered. He needed money, not a war. Preemptive strikes were never considered, only scalding returns for the immaturity and unpredictable nature of spirits that he'd come to know. In this, Luciel rested his hand on the pommel of the blade, casually holding the folded papers at his side. It was clear that he didn't trust the spirits' motives, great or small.

Luciel opened his mouth to speak, though bit back his words at the idea of carnivorous beasts that spirits tended to be preying upon the slightest weakness as the two sharing similar-sounding names. Instead he offered a soft sigh and an disappointed tilt of his head with a lifted eyebrow to show his lack of invested seriousness with an underling calling him out. At the same time, their eyes locked with the one that had spoken for Lucille to keep him in check, staring the creature down with expecting disinterest as if begging for them to make them worth their time. With an inaudible scoffing motion, Luciel composed themselves, turning back towards the individual in charge.

Appearances aside, being the boss of so many useless goons was enough weight to earn respect. Of course diplomacy was better suited to Lucille who seemed to have the bravery and intuition to approach their counterpart, and Luciel wouldn't make a move. Again, a single motion against his comrade's person would be met with hostility. Strong as they were, Luciel doubted the boss creature was willing to deal with his form of diplomacy. The thought briefly crossed his mind as to how much poison a spirit could handle before crumbling, though the assumption of their disgustingly uncultured understanding of botany compelled Luciel to stay is blade. Truly, the confusion of toxic dissemblance from a single slash of a mortal blade wouldn't show itself until seconds later when their very essence began to almost literally boil.
It was good that Lucille was there, since Luciel had little respect for the creatures.

[color=8882be]"Ah...yeh"[/color] Luciel mused, noting the lights of the numerous creatures. [color=8882be]"I vill not strike first..."[/color] he coldly promised for the sake of diplomacy.