Fame
Ever since she won that contest,
Everyone wants to be her friend.
They sit next to her at lunch,
They invite her to their houses,
They want to hear her sing.
She doesn't understand,
She's just their newest toy.
Inkopolis National Radio lives three blocks away from the news, close enough to the center of Inkopolis to be an easy commute but far enough from all the turfing that goes on to be quiet. The building itself is three stories, old brick and stone, somehow seeming squat and tired with overgrown bushes framing the front door and an ivy that seems determined to strangle the entrance pillar, the roof shielding the entrance, and at least two windows.
Marie likes it on sight. It's orderly enough, but they took no pains with the outside when what's inside is what matters, and besides, it's pretty. She takes a deep breath, smooths down her skirt (she's wearing business casual, black and white and not fresh but classy like she thinks a classical radio show host should look) and walks in.
A seahorse sits in the front room, two phones at his elbow, typing away with his tail while a triad of colts frolic under the desk. They're the ones who notice her first: two stop stock still, their tails still extended in mock battle, while the third charges out from under the desk. "Arie!"
Marie bends to catch the little one. "Hiya," she says, stroking the frills on the back of their neck with one hand (it's so hard to tell seahorse gender at that age). Glancing up at the little thing's father, she says, "I'm Marie. I'm a few minutes early for an interview."
The seahorse grins. "I'm Mr. Caballo, until we know each other better. And when these three heard who'd be coming, they insisted on visiting me at work after lunch. Go on, now," he says to the other two, one still frozen, the other shyly hiding behind their father's tail. "I'm sure Marie would love to see the drawings you made for her while I get Director Giri."
Oh, she certainly would. Marie's careful of her skirt as she plops on the floor, and in moments the three of them have pictures out and are chirping about how they love her outfit and her songs and does it hurt to tie up her tentacles like that?
She's relaxed into her kid-friendly persona by the time their father clears his throat. "Mr. Giri is ready now," he says, then glances at his children. "All right, into the pouch, it's past your naptimes."
The children go to their father with protests, Marie shooing them off and dusting herself off as she stands up. The seahorse grins at her. "Well, you pass muster with me, at least," he says, flicking a fin at her. "Don't let yourself be too run around; Director Giri can be..."
He trails off. Marie raises an eyebrow. "Can be...?"
"Just remember, I'm here 9-5 Tuesday through Saturday, and have had a hand in just about every part of this station at this point," he says. "Been here longer than half the staff. You want the job as the new classical announcer, right?"
Marie nods. "Choosing which songs to go in sequence and spending five minutes every half-hour giving some music history sounds relaxing, compared to what I've been doing. And I'd like to try radio, see how it differs from TV."
Mr. Caballo grins. "I saw your resume, and I've seen you on the news. They had no complaints about your attendance. You wouldn't be doing it solo for at least three months, mind, and have to learn the equipment from the bottom up."
Marie scowls at him. "I'm not afraid of work. Whoever'll teach me, will teach me, and we'll get on with it."
"Oh, I like you." The seahorse extends his tail; Marie takes it for a quick shake. "Only a little bit of ego, we can work with that. If you get greedy I'll make sure you're on coffee duty until you're splatted with it."
"Greedy?"
He releases her hand. "Straight down the hall, second door on your right. Talk to me after."
With that, the seahorse turns back to his computer and phones. Marie shrugs. A weird warning about a director isn't enough to bother her; she's been at the news long enough to meet people with all sorts of quirks. She straightens her shirt and walks calmly, head held high, past three recording rooms and knocks before she opens the proper door.
An inkling sits behind a desk messier than Callie's (Marie didn't think that was possible). She leaps to her feet and dashes around the desk. "Marie! I am your biggest, absolute biggest, fan." She proudly indicates her Team Marie t-shirt. "I can't believe you want to work with me! What can I do for you?"
Suddenly, Mr. Caballo's words make sense. That was far more of an interview than this will be.