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𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎.
Another night helping Tommy as the MP. Endless hours of pages going all over the room in frustration or pens clicking to represent the confusion you both shared. The candle light glowing on the wrinkled pages, orange glow against your faces. The coldest eyes your eyes have ever met staring at yours as you explained to him what this and that meant or disagreements which he always won cause you were too exhausted to hear his voice in an insulting manner.
Some things even you didn't understand. The politics and whatnot. How a nation could destroy itself over an opinion. It was rubbish but extraordinary at the same time. The brain was truly a mysterious study. How all these feelings and emotions could make another crumble into dust. How the opinions of people come to light and how they know how to get into people's heads. How they are all different and some people have gifts and some have curses.
None of us are the same.
This MP shit was for business. To build a bigger representation and to go national. Almost like a competition. It was a competition against the world. Thomas wanted to rule, but he led a gang. How could somebody rule a place when they are in an illegal circle?
Smoke filled the room from your countless cigarettes, stress engulfing you to the point of packs emptying themselves. Glasses of whiskey for Tommy. The amber colored liquor and the white rolled up paper with the addictive chemicals inside were both your ways of stress relief.
You'd be there every fucking night. Polly was cold in the bed alone until you got home around 3 a.m. She couldn't even sleep without you. She needed you beside her and she had thought that was pathetic of Polly Gray. But she didn't fight it. So she just sat in bed, waiting for you to slowly walk into the room with a tired greeting, helping you change and holding you in her arms until you both finally fell into a deep slumber.
And then the vicious cycle started all over again of getting up, going to the office, you going to where Tommy worked. It never ended.
But now we are at the present night as you were hovering over Thomas's shoulder, trying to read the documents along with him.
"Gypsy territory blown up by unknown suspects..." You muttered. You turned around, your arms folded across your breasts.
"Fucking McCavern and his fucking little-"
"Tom we knew it was going to happen when Arthur picked up Aberama." You cut him off. You leaned your lower back onto the edge of the desk, your head turned to the side to look at him. He pinched his nose, sitting back in his chair.
"We need a force, Y/n."
"Thomas, all you have picked is the Lee boys or Aberama Gold. And now look at his son!" Your arms flew in the air, giving him a stare for his reply.
