Was it praise, or more flattery, which was endearing Zelos to the goddess?

Amaterasu wiped her hands on her napkin- immeasurably pleased with herself at remembering that small bit of mortal etiquette- before running a delicate hand through Zelos's hair. The softness, the texture, was all surprising to her; men in Nippon tended to wear their hair short, and yet Zelos was far from being effeminate. A distinct lack of pink clothing helped with this assessment.

After a long moment to content herself that it was, in fact, real, Amaterasu softly stated once more, "No one in Nippon has hair like that... where do you come from, and is that vibrant a shade common?" She would have been shocked if such had been the case, but at the same time, such things didn't just appear out of nowhere for no good reason.

At the offer of a banquet, however, Amaterasu felt a faint blush appearing on her cheeks, marring the crimson marks which traced along her face. "I would really like to go to one, someday. For years and years I've never been given the opportunity. What would it be like?"