Three words.
Love without warning.
For what is love without complications? Absolutely nothing. When two, polar opposite souls unexpectedly collide, their lives are forever changed. It's a story of chance encounters, instant connections, and the magi...
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Michael Gray
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For a split second Michael for sure thought he was hallucinating, witnessing the cruel events of a man abuse a young woman right before his very eyes. She looked a fright; disheveled even - her darling brunette locks twisted into a matted clutter falling just above her shoulders, smudged mascara tearing at her under eyes, the poor girl was a wild mess.
Michael himself was not one to judge another based off of their appearance as he was brought up to respect a woman; and to be quite honest he wasn't in perfect condition either, the whole reason being because of all the peaky business he designates himself into. A few cuts and bruises tugged at his delicate skin from the previous bar fight himself and Isaiah had managed to collide themselves into, it was only with the matter of the infamous Polly Gray name being brought up that the ridiculous outburst had died down, the men leaving as soon as the Peaky Blinders were involved.
He hesitated wondering if he should help or overlook the impotent female, she wasn't his problem nor his business but he undoubtedly knew he couldn't leave her alone with that nefarious man, he was practically involved now.
The winter nights were cold and she wore nothing but a flimsy uniform, a uniform which so happened to have blood stains tugging at the rags of the skirt, she was shivering, her breath unintentionally hitching as she covered her face from the man in order for him to take no more hits. Michael would be a fool to depart from her now and plus, he was intrigued, what was a woman like that doing on the streets with a man like him.
Just as he was about to go assist the woman instead of standing around watching callously from a far - the former villain in the situation began walking away, leaving the girl stranded, perhaps to die of hyperthermia, it wouldn't be a surprise with how bleak these nights got. For now she rested against the garrison wall, wrapping her bare arms around her stomach in hope for a bit of warmth, her pouted lips turning a darker shade of blue by the minute.
