of-martyrisms:
After dismissing the customer from the conversation {{ not a faerie, Zara was CERTAIN. }}, the woman focused her attention on the ginger DJ —– Hazel was her name. The Dionne tried to recall every one of her employee’s on first name basis.
“Hey there, darling,” Zara offered, silently acknowledging the fact that Hazel was one of the only non-faeries she could fully tolerate. “Of course it is, you are doing a phenomenal job, as always!” She couldn’t remember if the teen responded well to encouragement, but opted to try it, anyways. “I especially enjoyed that last song, ah —– What was it called, again?”
She had always been thankful to the older woman for allowing her to work here at the club. Her own mother didn’t approve but hadn’t exactly forbade her from coming here but deep down, Hazel knew she would preferred another profession. But what wasn’t to love about this job? The teenager worked with music all day and night - she could ask for nothing more.
“Thank you” Her voice was shy, humble to the compliment. While she believed her work was good most of the time, she wasn’t one to brag about it and to hear her boss praise her like that just made her cheeks flush. “Oh, it’s just.. from an indie band I came across the other day, thought it was pretty nice so I added it to the playlist.”