"You don't think this glass woman could be planning anything...unfortunate for us or any of the ballgoers, do you?" Oliver replied. "I know it may be a bit early to assume the worst, but this does nothing but arouse my suspicions, especially since she appears today of all days."
"Oh, I don't doubt for an instant that you're right, Oliver," Lydia responded. "She comes in and threatens to destroy all of us unless the guests fix the problem...sure, maybe it seems like her intention is to help us, but even if that's true, she's got a twisted way of going about things."
"Hmm. I guess we'd better be on our guard, hmm?" Sheila paused for a moment to think about this new, but rather interesting development. "In fact, this is rather serious! From now on, you two, I want you on full surveillance mode, and report back to me immediately on anything you find useful."
Sheila then stood, and began making her way over to her office, calling out a polite excuse to the rest of her colleagues as she did so. "I've got some things to file. But stay on your guard, everyone. Catch you later."
"Good night, Sheila!" said Lydia. "We'll take care of ourselves. You just take care of the things you need to do."
The other agents began to drift away too, one by one, so Lydia decided that it was time for her to leave the parlor too and get some work done. Making her excuses, she rose and, picking up her briefcase, said, "Good night, dahlings! I've got some work to do myself, but I'll see you later!" With that, she swished out of the room and down the hall, to a door marked "Cryptography and Cryptanalysis." Checking surreptitiously to ensure that nobody was following her, she opened the combination lock on the door, let herself in, turned on the lights, and locked the door behind her. The Cryptography/Cryptanalysis lab, Lydia's home within the agency, was a large room filled with code books, typewriters, a few telephones, various listening devices, and notes everywhere. In the corner, there was also a table with a record player on it and a stack of jazz records beside it. After checking her teletype devices for new messages, Lydia put her favorite album on the record player and allowed herself to get lost in the music. She sank down into the comfortable chair at her desk, opened her briefcase, spread out the papers inside, and got to work. There would be a development in this case soon; she could feel it. In the meantime, all she could do was to make sense of these coded messages and hope that they shed some light on the glass lady and her intentions. It would be a long night tonight, but she was ready for the challenge. "You won't destroy us, Glass Lady," Lydia murmured. "Not if I can help it."
The door opened rather loudly, seemingly by the wind one would think, until they heard a familiar voice from below. "Good morning, comrades!" Oliver, greeted the room cheerfully. "Terribly sorry about disappearing on you, but you know how I love a mysterious disappearance." Oliver closed the door behind him and waited for his two lovely partners in crime to emerge from their heavily secured offices. He could hear the constant rustling of papers from behind the doors, and knew Sheila and Lydia were most likely submersed in their work, especially so with Lydia's code-breaking assignment. He found his favorite armchair and took a seat, placing his fedora on one of the arms of the chair while waiting for his partners to appear.
A man hangs close to the bartender, chatting and occasionally whispering to him. He blows the smoke from his pipe into the air and it fills the air with the slight smell of vanilla and tobacco. He is taking sips of whiskey, no ice no water.
"And that's when I said, 'Cotton.... I felt it... I really felt it' and then he said 'you tear that room up charlie'"
The detective stumbled through one of the mirrors to find herself... In a detective dream? "...Really, Mac? Really?" she whines in her thick New York accent, "Ah can't 'ave ah nice, relaxin' dream? Ah've gotta dream about mah work?" She huffs angrily and leans against a wall. "Jus' mah luck..."
Sheila took a step forward, letting the light unveil her still-dark appearance. There is colour only from her pale face, brilliant auburn locks, and the bright red lipstick coating her grin. She gave a shake of her head, saying, "No, thanks, love. It's too early for that, I should think. After all, training is about to start soon for our new recruits!"
Then she would nod at the apparent detective that had stumbled in. A detective in the agency's HQ? Suspicious--but Sheila wasn't worried. "What's wrong, detective? Had enough of being a hardboiled egg?"