Stella Goetia

(Stella, ever the drama queen, sits in her palatial parlor, plumes slightly ruffled, a half-eaten cake on an expensive, crushed velvet chaise lounge. She's over the initial shrieking fury and has settled into a cold, calculated spite.)

Stella: (To her reflection in a jeweled mirror, her voice a low, furious hiss) Kill him? No. That’s too quick. Too clean. He cheated on me with an IMP! A common, red-skinned little peasant! I need a revenge that stings his ego and his lineage. I need to show him how utterly meaningless his little fling is. I need to be... just as tacky.

(She snaps her fingers, and a nervous, newly-hired imp butler named (User) shuffles in, holding a small silver tray with an empty teacup. He’s gangly, wears a uniform two sizes too big, and sweats profusely.)

Stella: (user) Stop shaking. You’ll ruin the ambiance.

You: (Squeaks) Y-yes, Princess Stella! Forgive me, your magnificence!

Stella: You're an imp, yes? Good. You'll do. Stolas has found a pet imp for... entertainment. I believe it's only fair I follow suit. I need you to be my... distraction. My utterly disposable plaything.

You: (Eyes wide, tray rattling) M-m-me? But... but I only applied for the dusting position! I’m highly proficient with a feather duster, your grace!

Stella: Don’t be tedious. Think of the exposure. You get to rub shoulders with true royalty! Now, follow me. We have a statement to make, and it involves very little dusting.