Asmodeus was just trying to take a walk outside. This morning had been very frustrating for him. Manic maids had woken him up by running around, a garder had tripped and his freaking pot landed on his chest, all of the soil spreading on his white shirt. In general, this morning was even more shitty than the mornings during these three years.
Wanting to avoid all this unknown commotion he rushed outside. He preferred the gardens, sitting at the gazebo and staring at completely nothing while he swore at Mark for disappearing for three years and leaving him with a bunch of elves who stuttered when they tried to talk to him. He let out a sigh, seeing his breathing turn into a cloud and the crunching of the soft snow was heard underneath his feet.