Vivaldi opera that Azrael is singing. His voice isn't as clear, and there's less volume. But his pitch is dead-on.
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Today is rather cold. Compared to Texas that is, D.C. is chilly in late November. But Azrael seems to enjoy that weather as it's similar in temperature to his home in Alaska.
We got back two days ago and it's back at the wheel with work. It's a great deal of work, but getting each job done and then smiling back on my endeavor has it's own reward. My work can help me get my self-worth, and that's fulfilling.
Looking at the clock in my office, I see that it's past one and I need to stop by his office soon so that we can get going to a meeting we have. It's here at our office building this time and it's three floors below the one we're on now. I have to take these papers to him before we start. This time I recall that the meeting should be around an hour, and then we'll be done, and then return to some work and then end the day.
Leaving my office, I step out into the hall and knock on his door. I hear his voice from inside and step in.
Inside, Azrael sits at his desk and is typing away to finish paperwork. He's wearing a white collar shirt with black pants and a matching vest that hugs his torso well. But what I thought was him talking and saying for me to enter was actually him singing.
I knew that Azrael had a background in music, such as his piano skills, but I didn't know it extended to singing as well. But if his hobby of music is as as paramount as he says, then it'd make sense that he does. And the emergence of this should have occurred to me earlier as I'm the one who told him he should start hobbies.
He's clearly adept as whatever he sings sound nice. It's not English, and I think maybe it's Italian. His voice is not as powerful as those who are vocal powerhouses, but instead his voice is like a ribbon that extends out into the air. I don't know the song in question, but I'm certain he's hitting the notes with grace.
Sitting at his desk, Azrael has earbuds in his ears and sings along to what he can hear. He hasn't noticed that I've entered the room and doesn't still when I walk closer to his desk.
Not that I want him to stop singing. I can't enjoy it enough.
But he eventually turns around in his chair and notices me with a surprised yelp.
"Hogarth!" he says with a face turning flushed red, "How long have you been standing there?"
"Not long," I say with a smile as I can't help but notice his mortified face.
Azrael pulls is earbuds from his ears as he says, "Did you hear me singing?"
"Yes," I say with a nod, and Azrael's face burns brighter.
Azrael leans forward on his desk and hides his face in his arms, which I can't help but laugh at.
"Why are you embarrassed? You're good at singing," I say with a chuckle as I pat his back.
"I don't think so," says Azrael into his arms, his ears still red, "and if I'm not comfortable with my own singing, I don't want anybody else to hear me."
"You really weren't that bad," I say again, "you should be a singer."
"I still feel like I've been ignited," says Azrael as he sits up, his face still pink.
"What were you singing?" I ask curiously.
"Oh, it was some opera," answers Azrael as he looks at his phone where he's connected to his earbuds, "um, Vivaldi RV 638 2, Sileant Zephyri."
"What does that mean?" I ask.
"It's Latin and it means be quiet, the winds," explains Azrael, "it might sound strange, but it comes from an angle where the singer is so sad that they want the wind to stop blowing."
"That's pretty deep," I say as I move around the desk and set the paper I brought on his desk, "and you said that's opera?"
"It is," answers Azrael.
"Do you enjoy opera?"
"I do," says Azrael as he smiles, "I really do."
"How did you encounter opera? I don't think people really know about it that much," I say honestly.
It's true. I know that there is such a thing as opera, but beyond that I have no clue about it.
"I encountered opera when I was in my teens," says Azrael as he reminisces, "I was studying music as one of my classes and had heard of opera. I didn't think much of it then. But then one of my teachers said that opera was rubbish. So, as a little revenge, I decided that at a talent show that year I would sing an opera song just as a joke. But when I started listening to it I really just fell in love with it."
"Did you sing it at the talent show?" I ask, imagining Azrael as a teen singing opera. It's funny to imagine.
"I did," replies Azrael, "the teacher in question looked outraged. But it was quite fun."
"Did you win the talent show?"Â I ask, "I'd think you would. You're a really great singer, of opera, that is."
"I didn't win it," says Azrael as his pink cheeks turn a little more red.
"Who won?"
"I think a girl who was painting people the judges picked from the audience," recalls Azrael, "they were great paintings, and I think she deserved it. I participated in the talent show as a joke anyway, and I didn't plan to win it."
"You sound like you were young and wild when you were young," I say with a chuckle.
"I was," says Azrael with his own chuckle, "there were many actions of mine that I would not do today. Many, many actions."
"But that aside," says Azrael as he looks over at the clock on the wall, "I'm guessing it's time for that meeting of ours?"
"Yes," I answer with a nod, "I also brought these papers for it."
"Okay," says Azrael as he stands to go.
But the earbuds got tangled on of the buttons of his vest on, and standing pulls it and the phone connected off the desk to land on the floor.
"Shoot," says Azrael as he bends down to pick it up.
"You should get wireless earbuds," I suggest as he pulls the earbuds out and slips his phone into his pocket.
"What are those?" asks Azrael.
"They're earbuds that use Bluetooth to connect to a device and play audio," I say, and reach into my pocket to show him mine, opening as I hold it out to him.
"I'm guessing they run on batteries?" asks Azrael as he carefully takes the earbuds and looks at them.
"They do. Mine last for about ten hours," I say.
"They sound very useful," notes Azrael as he hands mine back to me, "I think I'll look into it."
"Oh," I say as I recall some information on them, "but you have to be careful on which earbuds you buy, because some earbuds are quite loud on the lowest setting."
"Oh," says Azrael as he glances at his computer, "then I guess I can't have them."
"Why not?"
"Well, they seem to not be healthy," says Azrael.
"I can find good ones. These are nice," I say, holding up mine.
"Oh, well, if you could get them for me I'd reimburse you," says Azrael.
"I'll get it to you before the week is out," I say with a smile. Azrael smiles as well.
"Thank you."
After grabbing the papers we need, we walk out of his office and head to the elevators. Azrael waves to Levi who has his office door open as usual. He smiles at us and waves back.
Riding down to the floor of the meeting, we go to the conference room. The room itself has a similar to view of that of my office and of Azrael's. But the window is different. Not that it's crucial.
Sitting down at the table, we settle in. I check my watch to see that we're about three minutes early. But after a few minutes though, it's strange that they've not shown up.
"Who are we waiting for?" I ask curiously to Azrael.
"James Tatou," says Azrael without having to consult a paper.
He leans back in his chair and seems to be bracing himself for the person to arrive.
"Is the person that's coming not on good terms with you?" I ask.
Azrael connects eyes with me, and smiles a little.
"You've been very good at reading my exterior," says Azrael, then leans forward to rest his elbows on the table, "yes. We don't exactly...get along."
"Why so?"
"I think you will see. If he decides to show up," says Azrael, then pulls out his phone, "do you mind if I play some music while we wait?"
"Sure," I reply before Azrael smiles and plays the music.
The music itself is opera, and it's not bad actually. I never even listened to opera before, but doing so now opens another door that I didn't know existed. I don't think I enjoy the music as much as Azrael though, as he leans back in his chair and closes his eyes softly, as if he in bliss.
His phone plays multiple songs and we listen to many of them before I realize that it's been quite some time and James hasn't shown up yet.
"Maybe you won't see him," says Azrael, breaking through the music being played, "its not unheard of that he won't show up."
"What's his company of?" I ask.
"He runs a tech company that focuses on finding superconductors," answers Azrael sitting properly in his chair, "and also other technology that is aimed at heightening communications."
"It sounds interesting as a job," I say, "sounds cutting-edge."
"It does," agrees Azrael, "but it doesn't change the fact that he has terrible punctuality among other things."
"Well," I say as look at my watch, "it's been about forty minutes past when he was supposed to be here. Would you like to stay a while longer to wait for him?"
"I suppose," says as Azrael glace at his own watch, a thin silver one, "I'll sponsor ten more minutes to wait. If he doesn't appear by then we'll move on to what we need to do next in the day."
"Okay then," I say, and Azrael leans back in his chair, closing his eyes again and relaxing.
I sit quietly for a while, when I realize that the person who's coming is the CEO, I think, of a company. So the Collection could be present in him as well.
"Um, Azrael?" I ask, and Azrael immediately has his eyes open and looking at me.
"Yes?" answers Azrael.
"Is this person, James," I start, "part of the Collection?"
"He tries not to," answers Azrael, "similar to me. In my case, with every meeting the Collection tries to hold with me, I pretend I never knew about it and simply don't attend."
"He does that as well?"
"As well as he can," answers Azrael, "he tends to take the approach of not knowing what the time and place is, and opts to go to fancy restaurants where he says he thought where the meeting was."
"Is the Collection not a good entity?" I ask the obvious question.
"I do not consider their behavior as acceptable within the parameters of civil conduct," answers Azrael.
"They do seem to be a very dangerous group," I remark.
"They are," says Azrael, "they control many portions of the economy and infrastructure of this country."
"Are they everywhere?" I ask, starting to feel fearful.
"They mostly are," says Azrael, "and it's crucial to remain out of their way. You can walk into a jewelry shop and be in danger."
"Really?" I think as I try to create a plan for putting a ring on him if the jewelry shop is dangerous to walk in.
"Well," says Azrael, "maybe not a jewelry shop. The sector of fine jewelry is controlled by a close friend of mine, so maybe not. Other sectors are safe as well."
"You have friends in the Collection?" I ask, relieved also that I can get a ring.
"A tiny number," replies Azrael, "there are sectors of the economy that I find friends in. One friend would be Dean in the pharmaceutical sector. The jewelry, literary, and technology sector have friends as well."
"Technology? Like James?" I ask.
"Well," says Azrael as he cracks a smile, "maybe not James as a friend. But he certainly is somebody who matches my behavior of our deviant group within the Collection."
"Isn't doing that kind of action dangerous?" I ask, "Deviating that is? Should I be worried for your health more?"
"They can try to effect our firm," says Azrael as he tilts his head and thinks for a moment, "but there are two main strengths on my side that make it difficult to even reach out to me."
"What are those?" I ask curiously.
"Well," says Azrael, "one is that I have never been involved in their activity, so they could not settle me in court. The second one is that I control a large portion of the economy."
"You do?"
"Well, I control the food of the American economy. And parts of Europe. If they threaten me, I can starve them out," says Azrael, then smiles, "I'm exaggerating. I don't think I would try to do anything uncivil. But they know about the power I wield, which is why they have let me act as I have."
"But they seem to be coming closer to you and trying to involve you more," I observe.
"They are," agrees Azrael, "they are very interested in politics recently and want to have as much assets, money, and influence on their side. Which is why they want to have as many firms on board."
"So you're under a lot of pressure," I say.
"Yes."
"Do you think that they'll succeed in getting to you?"
"Not unless they find a weakness in me. Which right now they don't know."
"What is your weakness?"
Azrael glances at his watch.
"Let's go back upstairs," says Azrael as he stands up and faces away from me, picking up his phone as well, "I think we've had a good talk, and also given luxury of time bountiful to James."
I sense that Azrael doesn't want to continue the conversation, and so I nod and we walk upstairs. Azrael after we reach the top floor disappears into his office without another word. I feel guilty that I may have touched on something.
But after walking into my office, I see a little message on my computer from Azrael where he says that he says he remembered something he had to so left e so quickly.
I also sense here that he's saying this only to make me feel that I've not done anything. And though I know that he's not telling the truth, I can tell that he sent it because he cares that I am not hurt.
So I take the sentiment and smile, thankful that I'm still liked by Azrael.