#convo: azariah3

[fairywilds]

Aristotle leaned against the doorframe of Azariah's office, his ever-present camera hanging loosely around his neck. The faint scent of lilies lingered in the air, courtesy of a nearby arrangement. "So, tell me," he stated, his tone laced with casually friendly snark, "do you have to give the funeral sympathy speech? Does it just flow out naturally like some kind of morbid superpower?" He tilted his head, "Or is that not part of the job description?" He questioned, his sharp green eyes studying her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "Either way, I’m impressed. You’ve got that whole 'comforting but not too comforting' vibe down to an art form." ( @azariahmiles )

[fairywilds]

Aristotle gave a mock gasp, clutching his chest as if wounded. “Avoiding work? You wound me. I’ll have you know this is work. Investigative journalism.” He gestured broadly, as though the office itself were his latest exposé. “You, the mysterious funeral director with a knack for reading rooms and a morbid— uh, I mean, practical— sense of empathy. There’s a story here, I can feel it,” His smile genuinely grew. “But honestly? You’re kind of fascinating, Az. You spend your days immersed in other people’s grief, yet you’re... what? Completely unfazed by it? Or are you just that good at hiding it?” He tilted his head, studying her with the same intensity he might reserve for framing the perfect photo. “Because, personally, I’d be a wreck. All that emotion? All those secrets people spill when they’re breaking apart? It’d bury me. But you... you wear it like it’s nothing.” He said. “Kinda cool, if you ask me. So, what’s the trick? What's your secret? How do you keep it all from dragging you down? Do you ever just let loose and party down on the weekends?" He questioned.

Azariah looked up from her desk, one eyebrow arched as she met Aristotle's gaze with a wry smile. The faint click of her pen against the desk paused as she leaned back in her chair, arms crossing loosely. "Morbid superpower?" she repeated, her tone dry but with an undercurrent of humor. "I’ll take that as a compliment, though I think it’s more of an acquired skill than a gift from the beyond." She gestured vaguely toward the stack of files on her desk. "It’s less about a speech and more about reading the room. People don’t need rehearsed words... they just want someone to meet them where they are. Sometimes it’s a quiet nod; sometimes, it’s a bit of reassurance that they’re not unraveling alone." Her lips quirked into a subtle smirk as her gaze flicked to his camera. "But I’m guessing you didn’t wander in here just to analyze my customer service approach. Looking for inspiration, or just avoiding actual work?" She reached for her coffee cup, her eyes sparkling with playful challenge. "If it’s the latter, I’ll let you off easy; this time."