"Ah Nicola," Frankie smiled, as she entered the department. She was met by a crowd of confused faces as the young woman and middle aged minister hugged.
"Everyone this is Frankie Dean, she'll be my new senior adviser. Try not to kill her, she's only 5 foot, 3," Nicola sighed as she led her to her so-called office which was essentially a goldfish bowl.
She logged on to the expensive computer with the details written on some paper while trying to ignore the faces looking through her glass wall "Right where te hell is that fucker Nic'la?" an angry Scot demanded, storming into her office.
"Talking to our press officers I think. Do you need her specifically or will I do?"
"Depends if ye balls want te be ripped off," he growled.
"You couldn't fit them in your hands."
The angry Scot let out a chuckle before asking "Seriously sunshine, where is Nic'la?"
"I've no idea; it's my first day here."
"Hang on, ye must be Francesca Dean. I'm sorry about me giving ye a bollocking. Would you like to start over?"
"No it's alright; I was warned about the infamous Malcolm Tucker and his techni-coloured dream-coat of bollocking," she smirked "They also said you were a complete arse"
The other members of the department stood in shock, trying to work out how Malcolm Tucker could physically smile and look like he meant it "What the hell is going on?" Ollie thought out loud "I've never seen him so...normal."
"What are we all looking at?" Nicola said peering over their shoulders.
"Malcolm Tucker, with a genuine smile."
"I'd better call David Attenborough for a commentary of this. Quickly, he's coming back," Nicola hissed as they scampered back to their desks.
"We'll talk later, yeah," Malcolm nodded as an unshaken Frankie smiled.
After his major bollocking at Nicola, Terri sprinted into the office to find out more about that first very strange meeting "What the hell was that all about?"
"What are you talking about?" Frankie asked.
"You and Malcolm, he was nice to you. NICE!"
"Chill Terri, do you want a cup of tea?"