[It is becoming belatedly rather clear that this man, person, thing, alleged death god, whatever he is, is not entirely of a sane mind. Lucius does his best to sidle back on the pretense of needing more room, looking up at him -- moving as much as he can while disguising the fact he is moving at all, and for Merlin's sake don't make it look like an actual retreat.

Disturbing as it is - and as distrusting as he is - however, there is something not unlike a kind of sense to be had in the words aimed his way. There is a warning there he'd be reckless not to consider.

He doesn't know what's going on here, still. He can't afford to be reckless.]

I would hate to spoil your fun by removing all things interesting in the process of my demise.

[Tartly, he says this, and very sardonic. His expression vaguely borders on sulky. But for all his continuing airs, the wheels in his head are turning as he weighs the implied words of caution.]

It is Malfoy, by the way. Lucius Malfoy. If I'm to be 'mister'ed at it may as well be under the proper name.