Keysmith [NOT FANFICTION] ✓completed

Still Single, Check (unfortunately)

FRANCIS walked towards Magenta's office with a spring in his step and a happy sparkle in his grey-blue eyes. He whistled softly to himself to the tune of Thinking Out Loud by Ed Sheeran, although his whistling skills left much to be desired and he'd butchered the melody beyond recognition.

Luckily for him, the halls were empty at this early hour and he made it to Magenta's office without any nasty remarks on the unrecognizable tune. Not that the empty halls were unusual -- people rarely visited the Field Work department unless they worked there, and the passages were almost permanently empty.

Francis, however, knew the way to Magenta's office off by heart. He'd visited it more often than almost anyone else in the building, and as a result he walked straight up to the door without even needing to glance at the nameplate next to it. If he'd looked, he would've seen the name Magenta Redwood engraved into it with curly letters.

While Francis usually left the door to his office standing ajar, or at least unlocked, Magenta's office was thoroughly sealed, with at least two locks and a sliding bolt to keep it that way. Francis knew knocking was pointless, because the door had been soundproofed, so he just pressed the small bell, smirking to himself as he imagined the cheerful jingle that was so contrary to Magenta's nature ringing inside her office.

Seconds later the door swung open violently -- one of the things Francis and Magenta did have in common was their inability to open doors slowly -- and Magenta stood on the other side, her eyes sharp and angry as always as she opened her mouth to demand the reason for his presence.

Only then did it register that it was Francis standing in front of her, and her face broke into a wide grin. Although, when compared to Francis, it wasn't much of a grin -- more of a small smile. But the angry spark in her eyes had melted away, replaced with a welcoming happiness that was rarely a part of Magenta's expression.

"Francis, come in!" she greeted him, stepping aside to allow him to enter her office.

The interior of the office was another excellent example of the contrast between Francis and Magenta. Francis's office was, to put it simply, a mess. Magenta's office, however, was neatly organized. The floor was spotless, the drawers were closed properly, and there wasn't a coffee stain in sight.

Once upon a time, Francis might've admired Magenta for her ability to keep her office organized. But he'd discovered a long time ago that the secret to her success was that she was cheating. Magenta had a neat and organized office because she didn't have anything that could get un-organized. Being Officer of Field Work meant that she had an awful lot of field missions and precious little paperwork, and as a result she didn't acquire a hoard of paperwork that got in the way of anyone who so much as dared to breathe.

And -- or so Francis reasoned -- having no paperwork was the equivalent of cheating, therefore the level of tidiness of Magenta's office couldn't be fairly compared to his.

Magenta watched Francis's gaze take in her office, knowing that he was searching for any blemish in the squeaky-clean room. To his disappointment, he didn't find one.

"Still cheating, I see," Francis mumbled softly, and Magenta closed the door of her office with a small chuckle.

"Still coming up with excuses, I see," she responded.

"Excuses for what?" Francis protested.

"Oh please," Magenta rolled her eyes dramatically, "everyone knows the only reason you scrutinize my office is because yours is such an insufferable mess, and you can't stand that I have my stuff organized."

"Not true," Francis grumbled under his breath, although it sounded more like a pout than a protest.

Magenta was wise enough to drop the topic, returning to her desk.