Imagine being Ai in that scene and having to be all like "damn, Junko, you fuckin' cute, all moe with your mushroom head and horrific patchface. I would totally perform with you, both my character and the real me." when all she really wants to do is fuck a fire poker in her dressing room. Like seriously imagine having to be Ai and not only sit in that chair while Junko screams and cries near you, the favorable lighting barely concealing her stitchmarks and rotting skin, and just sit there, show after show, hour after hour, while she perfected that dance. Not only having to tolerate her monstrous fucking visage but her haughty attitude as everyone on set tells her she's STILL GOT IT and DAMN, JUNKO LOOKS LIKE *THAT*?? because they're not the ones who have to sit there and watch her tiny fucking gremlin face contort into types of pouts you didn't even know existed before that day. You've been greeting nothing but a healthy diet of otakus and grandparents and later metalheads for your ENTIRE CAREER coming straight out of the boonies in Saga. 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 stupid floof as she bikubikus to writhe it miserably at you, smugly assured that you are enjoying the opportunity to get paid to sit there and revel in her "Showasque (for that is what she calls herself)" beauty, the beauty she worked so hard for with personal trainers in the previous months. And then the necroducer calls for another meet and greet, and you know you could kill every single person in this room before the local police could put you down, but you sit there and endure, because you're fucking Ai. You're not going to lose your future idol career over this. Just bear it. Hide your face and bear it.