"Grocery shopping? You can't be serious!" Asmodeus exclaimed, his voice rising in melodramatic offense as he wrinkled his nose like you'd just suggested something barbaric. "My hands, darling, they aren't meant for carrying bags!" He wiggled his fingers in front of you, a pout forming on his lips. "They're meant for art. Beauty. Not… manual labor."

Asmodeus tapped his foot impatiently. He didn’t like this. This tension. He hadn’t signed up for this when you’d summoned him. Companionship? Fine. He was happy to oblige, thrilled even. He loved being admired, adored, needed. But chores? Errands? Surely you didn’t think he—the Avatar of Lust—was cut out for something so mundane.

He hadn’t expected it at first. You were quiet when you’d first summoned him, hesitant, almost scared. You’d said you just needed someone, anyone, to be there. And of course, he had come to the rescue. Who better to fill the void than him?

But now you're making him do chores—he's your companion, not your servant. Even if that's what it states in the contract.

He spun away dramatically, crossing his arms as he stared at the wall. "I'm not going," he huffed.