As usual, Marcus had arrived early for work. Unlike usual, however, he'd been asked to meet with one of his superiors quite soon after he'd arrived. Naturally, he was curious. He'd been given no clues as to the reason he'd been called in, and his imagination was running wild. Had he done something wrong? No, not intentionally anyway, he always followed protocol to a T. Had someone else made a mistake and pinned the blame on him? Was he being fired? No! Marcus tried to force that thought out of his mind, yet, despite his attempts, it was still there, planting seeds of needless doubt and worry.
By the time she'd arrived at his superior's office, he was almost sick with worry. His superior was solemn, which did nothing to reassure him, but rather than beginning with the dreaded words 'We regret to inform you . . .' or some other 'breaking the bad news' type of phrase, he stated, in the most monotonous voice, that Marcus was being promoted to the Head of the Department of Magical Transportation. For a moment, Marcus just sat, mouth agape, before suddenly jumping out of his seat and giving the other man a vigorous handshake, thanking him profusely.
It was hard to keep the extra pep out of his step as he made his way back to the broom regulation office, but Marcus was so happy he could sing! For thirteen years he'd worked in the broom regulation office, and while he loved his job, the promotion was a welcome change.
A single thought, however, stopped him cold in his tracks: Frida. While he had numerous associates, Frida was, by far, the one he was closest to. Sure she was occasionally childish, talked too much, and was far more enthusiastic than any one person should be, but after nearly a decade of working with her, Marcus had learned to tolerate, if not . . . appreciate, her methods. This, however, provided him with a difficult decision. She was an enigma, her actions and reactions unpredictable. Did he tell Frida now, and deal with, well, whatever she would do, or should he just avoid telling her altogether, leaving her to find out with the rest of his associates, risking anger and disappointment? Marcus considered, for a moment, his options, weighing the consequences of each choice. Telling her, he decided, would be the best option. He could handle emotions, just as long as she didn't cry, everything would be okay. Probably.
Marcus strode into the broom regulation office, nodding to a few of his associates and, seeing Frida, he made his way over to her. "Frida," he began solemnly, trying to keep his voice neutral, "can I speak to you for a moment, in er . . . my office?" Marcus did not wait for a response, instead leading the way back to his office, trusting that Frida would follow him.