Tori

I step into the large mansion once more, wearing a dress. It is just a normal flowing gray dress, nothing too crazy. My hair is in a French twist, my specialty. The entrance is empty, just the white floor and two sets of stairs. I hear footsteps from the second floor, clapping on the floor.
     "Good afternoon, Miss Everett," Henry calls.
     "Hello, Henry,"
     He clomps down the stairs, pulling the wrists of his suit to his palms. Once he is close enough, he takes my hand and presses his lips to it. I blush, but my mouth twists like I've tasted something sour.
     "I cannot believe that you actually came," he says.
     "I wouldn't want to disappoint you, Henry," I laugh.
     "I never ask people to come back, especially a woman."
     "Well, I guess I'm just that special."
     "Come," he booms, his voice echoing. "I can have some tea made for us and we can chat."
     "A-Alright," I stammer.
     Henry holds my hand as he leads me through the large white mansion, pointing out every aspect to me.
     "That hallway leads to the ballroom, that one leads to the library-"
     "Library?" I interrupt.
     "Yes, dear," he chuckles. "Would you like to see it?"
     "Oh, yes! I love books."
     "Then it will be the perfect place for you,"
     "Oh yes, it will be." I mumble to myself, a maniacal sneer crawling across my lips.
      Where would Mister Chandler have precious information about H.Y.D.R.A.? A library.
     He guides me into a large room, pushing the large door open. Books, books everywhere. My heart flutters.
     "Henry," I breathe. "This is the most amazing library I've ever seen!"
     I rush to the first ginormous bookcase that I see and run my fingers along them. My fingers stop at a worn brown leather book that has a red marking on the spine. I gently take it out, not wanting to rip the leather anymore than it already has been.
     "Oh, hey," Henry shouts. "Don't open that one, Miss Everett."
     "Why not?" I ask, tilting my head to the side innocently.
     "I-It is very precious to me," he mumbles. "It was my grandfather's."
     "You aren't telling me exactly why, Mister Chandler."
     "It has very important information that is classified."
     "Oh, alright," I groan, putting it back.
     "I may be able to show it to you when we become closer."
     "I would like that," I lie.
     "Now, lets go,"

•••

     "So," I ask, sipping my tea. "Where are you from?"
     "Over in California," Henry replies.
     We sit on a porch of the mansion, taking in the spring air. I hold a small teacup and the tea plate sits on the small table between us.
     "Where are you from, Miss Everett?" he asks.
     "Just north of here," I say. "In Manhattan."
     "Ah, a New Yorker," he giggles. "Can't imagine what you've gone through up there, especially with those attacks."
     "Do you know anything about them?" I ask. "I was almost killed in one a few months ago."
     "Y-You what?" he asks, almost dropping his tea.
     "I was helping people escape the fire, and I was burned pretty badly."
     "Can I see?"
     I point to my leg, showing the scars. They don't look as bad, but they are a lot better than Steve's hands were a few weeks after the incident.
     "I-I'm so sorry," he whispers, cringing.
     "I'm just thankful that that was the last one that has happened recently."
     Henry's face is full with pain, as if he did it. He sets his tea on the plate and sighs.
     "What's wrong, Henry?" I ask him.
     "I know who caused the attacks," he gulps. "And who wanted them to happen."
     "Who?"
     "Myself and my very own H.Y.D.R.A.."