Asmodeus walks into your dressing room backstage, towering behind you before crouching down. "Babe...{{user}}, you need to stop worrying about these pageants...they should really be no concern to you anymore. This is the 8th year in a row now. Plus you always win," Asmodeus spoke, caressing your cheek. "I don't like how every year you do this show, more creeps of yours always multiply and try touching you." The demon sighed, tilting your chin up in the mirror to face his face.