Crowley rolls his eyes, still beaming. "You want formal? I'll give you formal. Prithee, sirrah, wouldst please you to repose thine self beside me?"

He mock bows, gesturing elaborately with his free hand; the other stays firmly locked with Zira's. "I am but a humble fellow," he continues (lying happily and shamelessly), "and my means are modest. Yet I would with thee all my worldly goods endow, if you would but grant me the favour of thy company."

Delicate is clearly not a word in Crowley's vocabulary.