Scarlett

I stabbed at the dark green lettuce on her plate. Uncle James had talked all about stuff I didn't care about. He was nervous. It was obvious. Whenever he was nervous he rambled on about furniture or something like that.

"So, what have you been up to?" Wilson dropped his fork on the plate and stared at me.

"Ummm…not much," I was caught off guard. I didn't want to tell him what I had been doing. No one knew what I did except for me, and I planned to keep it that way. It was complicated.

"I mean, money wise," he shrugged and then stared closely, looking for any flinch that I made, in case I was lying.

"I can pay the bills, it's good," I decided to downplay my current finanacial situation. I had the money I needed, and that was good enough.

"You had a place, right? I mean, before you moved in with me."

"Yes, of course," Not so true. I lived with Aaron. Oh, that son of a bitch. He needed to go and die in a corner. And so did my best friend. When I caught them in bed, it was just awful.

"Okay. Good," Uncle James smiled and then took a sip of the thick organic junk in his glass.

"You're running away from me now, ey?" a gruff voice echoed from behind me.

My uncle looked up with sullen eyes. All he managed to whisper was, "House…"

I turned around. A man towered above. His cerulean blue eyes darted across me, as he rubbed his rough stubble. "Who is this, little Miss Sunshine?" the man rolled his eyes. A thick, wooden cane graced his side.

"I'm Scarlett Wilson…" I smiled. He still stared. The man… House, was quite intriguing. I didn't know why I wanted to know more about him.

"And I'm Colonel Mustard," once again, House rolled his eyes.

Uncle James waved his hand in front of his face, "House, this is my niece."

"I gathered that," House pouted and and then shifted his weight.

"House, just let me be."

"Yeah, nice cover."

Uncle James scoffed and I shook my head. This was insane. House was insane.

"Well, have fun. As much as you can at a hospital," House smirked lightly.

"Actually, I'm doing a documentary on the hospital," I dropped my fork on the plate and picked up my water bottle.

House reached into his pocket and pulled out two pills. All I could wish was that I had my camera right now. As much as he was insane, he had an air about him that would make my documentary amazing. "Wow, documentaries are crappy."

"House!" my uncle obviously had problems with him, but he always said House was his best friend.

"Eh," House didn't look away from me. None of us spoke for a minute. It seemed as though House was going to speak, as he took a deep breath, but instead he hobbled away quickly.

And as he walked away, I couldn't help but let my eyes travel down his body.

******

Uncle James sat at his desk, talking to my dad on the phone. I slowly picked up my camera and tiptoed to the door. His back was to me. Inevitable… I needed the best for the documentary. Quickly, I opened it. The door clicked open and I ran out before Uncle James could protest.

House was the answer for my movie. That man had a secret, a deep secret and I was determined to find out what the secret could be. I came up to the door of House's office. He sat in his office chair, alone. Before going in, I debated between going in, or keeping my distance.

"You going to come in, or are you going to stand out there all day?" he scared me with his gruff voice. I automatically walked in and held tightly to my camera.

"Oh, it's you," House clucked.

"Yeah…" was all I managed to say.

House stared at me for a second and then looked into my eyes, "Do you need anything?"

I remembered my mission, "I was actually wondering if you wanted to be the focus of my documentary."

"Well, I would, but my makeup artist is home sick."

"It's a documentary, not the set of Godzilla," I snorted.

He stopped and watched me again. His expression softened for the first time, "I'll talk to my team."

I did the staring, this time. What had happened to that rough exterior that had greeted me oh so cheerily?