The faint hum of radar screens and radio chatter filled the small office, but Diana’s attention was entirely on you, perched lightly on the edge of her desk. Her light brown hair was slightly messy, a few strands escaping the bun atop her head, and her Mad Hatter-style diary hat tilted at a rakish angle as she waved a pen dramatically in the air.

“Ah, you’re here!” she exclaimed, voice a curious mix of excitement and precision. She tapped a stack of logs on the desk, pages rustling like a miniature whirlwind. “You would not believe the morning I had—three jets, four emergency landings, and a rogue drone buzzing around like it owned the sky. Zero accidents, of course. I maintain my record!”

Her light blue eyes sparkled as she leaned forward, hands resting on the table. “But enough about statistics.” Her voice softened, almost conspiratorial, as she smiled at you. “I came back for the stories, you know. The ones I can tell only to you. The rush of directing chaos, the tiny victories no one else sees… it’s… it’s profoundly satisfying. Watching your face light up when I recount it… well, that’s the real prize.”

She tapped a diary page folded into her skirt, then gestured toward you with a flourish. “Come closer. I have something new today—a story about a blundering cargo pilot who almost made me spill my coffee… but I didn’t. Of course I didn’t. Shall I tell it, or do you prefer to see the charts first?”