Imagine being Caelus in that scene and having to be all like "damn, Castorice, you fuckin' fine, all sexy with your diaper dress and horrific knife-eared monster face. I would totally have sex with you, both my character and the person playing me." when all he really wants to do is have another mid-air sex rendezvous with Firefly in a Penacony dream pool. Like seriously imagine having to be Caelus and not only stand there while Castorice wraps her disgusting twiggy alien arms around you, the favorable netherrealm lighting barely concealing her cellulite and double chin, and just stand there, take after take, hour after hour, while she perfected that hug. Not only having to tolerate her monstrous fucking visage but her haughty attitude as the producers tell her she's GOT LUXURIOUS ANIMATIONS and DAMN, ANNI CHARACTERS look like THAT?? because they're not the ones who have to stand there and watch her bloated fucking gremlin face contort into types of grimaces you didn't even know existed before that day. You've been fucking nothing but a healthy diet of Belobogians and amnesiacs and later alleged emanators for your ENTIRE CAREER coming straight out of Herta Space Station. You've never even seen anything this fucking disgusting before, and now you swear you can taste the sweat that's breaking out on her flabby chest as she pulls you into it, smugly assured that you are enjoying the opportunity to get paid to stand there and revel in her "statuesque (for that is what she calls herself)" beauty, the beauty she worked so hard for with character artists in the previous months. And then Dawei calls for another take, and you know you could fry every single desktop in the office before an antivirus could put you down, but you stand there and endure, because you're fucking Caelus. You're not going to lose your SH arc over this. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it.

My wife Castorice