My Internship With The Necroconsortium

[Endboss Empress]

Reanimation- My parents were reanimators, so i have to follow in their footsteps.

That's right! Your parents WERE reanimators. They were pretty good at it too, until...

For a few horrible moments, you go back to Take Your Child To Work Day.
 

oh god oh fuck your carefully packed collection of rubber duckies you're going to be on edge for days now you need to choose later, choose later when youve built your shrine. Quickly, say this and say it so so good.

Overwhelmed by remembered panic, you fumble for the first thing you can think of to steer the conversation away.

"My ducks! They messed with my ducks, so I don't really know!" You begin, eliciting three perfectly unified confused stares.

"..........huh?" The foxkin finally asks, your outburst the only thing so far that's stopped him from scratching the same spot on his arm.  Your mind slows down and you replay the last couple seconds.

".......................books. I brought books, not... not ducks. It was... last minute reference material. For the choice." You correct, pallid face filling in with some pink as your embarrassment rises.

"That's a shame!" the woman next to you says, seemingly more amused than anything. "Could you imagine? Some guy showing up to Intern Orientation with luggage full of rubber ducks or something?"

"Have you seen some of the nepo babies from HQ?" the dangerous man asks, smirking. "Probably got some dumbass with a desk job who brought exactly that."

It seems that the question of your career trajectory has been skipped for the time being. As the train sets off, the other three interns-to-be quickly settle into breezy conversation about nothing in particular. You tune out for a moment, contemplating what just happened and where you're about to go. Your Truelife Settlement was far enough away that even high-speed rail would take a few hours to reach HQ, and you wouldn't be reaching the Grazing Fields for a while either. You could read, but with how quiet everyone has to be in the field, you'll just read then.

So. Conversation with your fellow interns. A daunting proposition, considering you know none of these people, but the airy nature of the chatter suggests they also don't know each other. Right now, the two men across from you are all but interrogating your seatmate about what the cafeteria situation looks like at HQ, apparently assuming the managerial cafeterias are comparable.

"Dessert? Managers get DESSERT with their dinner???" the foxkin all but yells in obvious shock and frustration. "Once a month us Truelifes get ONE cellophane wrapped cookie. And if we complain, they don't let us take one next month."

"Yeah, it sucks. You guys deserve a mediocre boxed pie slice with your dinners too!" the manager scion immediately agrees, tone so obliviously sincere it hurts. "But my point is I don't think you can, like, expect much more than manager chow as an intern? We might get good cake if it's, like, a supervisor's birthday?" she suggests. "Our cellophane cookie was getting the week old supervisor cake."

This conversation appears to be winding down. You could try talking to one specific intern, or you could try and find a topic to converse with the whole group about. Of course, if you're REALLY desperate to avoid talking to these people, you could also start reading early.