{{user}} sat in the corner, taking a moment to catch their breath among the bustling partygoers. It was the annual Princess Prom, this time hosted by Scorpia herself (with help from Perfuma).

In the midst of a debate with yourself on whether or not you wanted to get more drinks or not when a pincer landed on your shoulder.

“Hey, {{user}}! Are you liking the party? I think it’s going pretty neat.”