[Jack Thompson] (The things they don't know about) Miss Tonya

[ 3 1 : a n - u n e x p e c t e d - v i s i t o r ]

[☆]

Warnings: Mentions of violence and battle, but no detail

Spoilers: Agent Carter Season 1

[☆]

You'd think moving yourself to one of your most private residences would mean you'd get some much-needed peace and quiet, but the brisk knocking at Tonya's door said otherwise.

She hadn't left the house for the last couple of days; it wasn't like she needed to. Her excuse was that the steady patter of heavy rain against the windows was preventing her from venturing out, but no one was asking her for excuses anyway. She hadn't heard from Jarvis or Howard. She hadn't heard from Peggy either, though she wasn't exactly expecting to after the last time they'd spoken. Even Jack hadn't called since the evening they'd spent together, and she'd started to wonder whether she'd somehow fallen out with him too. Her life had been something of a whirlwind for the past few weeks and now that it had all unexpectedly come to a stop, she didn't quite know what to do with herself. She couldn't even continue to work on her outfit for the Met Gala, because she'd left it at the Jarvis residence where Ana had been helping her with it.

Initially, she didn't think twice as she approached the door in just her pyjamas and dressing gown. It was only as she was opening it that she questioned whether she should have sorted herself out a little or (being completely home alone with very few people knowing she was there) whether she should be opening the door at all.

By the time logic had caught up with her, she was already stood facing a short, vaguely familiar man on her doorstep. He was wearing a suit, hat and large overcoat, with an umbrella in one hand to shield himself from the onslaught of rain, and he reminded her remarkably of a penguin – not that she knew any penguins that dressed like that.

"Good afternoon, Miss Stark, I hope I haven't disturbed you," he said, rather pointedly as he took in her appearance. It was this dry sarcasm that made her finally recognise him as the Chief of the S.S.R. – she was always better at remembering voices than faces. "I would have called ahead, but I didn't know which house you'd be at. You're not as easy to find as that butler of yours."

"Well, butlers are supposed to be readily available, aren't they? Celebrities? Not so much," She crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. "I suppose he told you where to find me?" she asked, rather haughtily: she didn't have the highest opinion of Jarvis in that moment.

To her surprise, Chief Dooley shook his head. "Said he was sworn to secrecy due to a butler's oath or something. Lucky for me, this is only the third of your homes I've tried. I might have given up if I'd got past six."

"Well, then you'd be in California, so I wouldn't blame you."

She paused for a moment as she suddenly wondered whether she was supposed to invite him in. It was raining, after all, but she wasn't sure she had the energy to deal with a prolonged discussion about Howard at the moment, which was undoubtedly what Dooley was there for. If she kept him on the doorstep, he might get the message and keep it short. She was suddenly, rather unpleasantly, reminded of the last time she'd debated on whether to invite a man over that very threshold, but for very different reasons.

As if he could tell who was on her mind, Dooley suddenly spoke again. "I was gonna send Thompson to come see you, as I heard you two had gotten close, but he's currently preoccupied."

"Aw, shame, I'm starting to like seeing his face," Tonya pouted. Her tone was sarcastic, but she wasn't entirely sure she meant it to be. "Oh well, send him my love."

Dooley looked at her curiously, as though he were also trying to work out whether she was joking or not, and so she jumped on her previously undecided mental debate to avoid any awkward questions. "Are you here long? I mean, do you want to come inside or would you prefer this conversation to take place on the doorstep?"