WRITTEN FOR ME ( thomas shelby )

016 ━ Counting Seconds ..

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" Counting Seconds "

          THE DOCKS ON THE THAMES were never quiet, not even well past the dead of the night, when all but a handful of hours stood between a city supposed to be asleep — but valiantly refusing such rest — and the sun's rise over a pseudo-fog. The air was thick and the port was noisy on the side that Thomas stood well away from. His eyes were locked on a much less polluted corner of the water. He waited on the docks of a rather unpopular ferry coming all the way from Southampton.

In undeniable eagerness, Tommy pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time for what was most likely the hundreth time in only the past few days. He never cared much for the constrictions of time before, not until he had been forced to face the bitterness that came with being too late for someone he loved. Because of that, because of her, throughout the stress of the past days, Thomas has been caught in the web of a nervous new habit of taking that golden round watch in his hand and flicking it open.

Perhaps the first time he grew aware of this consequence of knowing the time has almost come to see Jacqueline Alloways again was two afternoons prior when, after a morning of ruckus marked by the Garrison being blown up, he found out from Balthasar, right before the family meeting he called that the Alloways had docked in Southampton. Thomas' hands shook and he did his best to hide that throughout the meeting, thankfully downing some whiskey to help with it.

Far less easy to hide it had turned out to be immediately after the meeting, when Polly had followed after him in a hurry. "Tomorrow?" She spoke on her pressing, outraged tone. The way he had dropped the unexpected news on them about the expansion to London starting tomorrow had shocked Polly, it seemed. She had been keen to discuss the bombing of the pub and didn't necessarily expect Tommy to keep on the line dictated by John's complaints through his overly talkative wife's — Esme's — influence.

"I'm company treasurer," Polly made sure to remind him. "You should speak to me first. It's Newmarket tomorrow. Third busiest day of the year."

"We have eighteen staff," Tommy dismantled carelessly her attempted argument to set his expansion plans back. He slid his watch back in the pocket of his vest. Can't she just understand it's tomorrow because of Jackie? That question floated unpolished around his mind, though he knew all too well he was the one who thought it better to tell no one about the return of the Alloways' until Jackie was by his side safe and sound. There was such a thing as jinxing in his world and it was called 'trusting no one, but yourself'.

"Who you trust with two hundred quid takings?" Polly inquired, now seated at her desk, with the register open before her. Upon hearing Tommy's unsuccessful attempt to access their safe, she was prompted to add, "And I changed the combination." She waited for his defeated exhale before looking away from him and back to her register. "So," Polly trailed off, "what's going on, Thomas?"

Tommy cared very little of her questions and of her smooth game of blackmail to try and puzzle through what she could already read of him. "Give me the combination, Polly."

Gaining only ignorange after his demand was spoken, Tommy gave in to at least come before her desk before repeating his request. Once again, her silent treatment pushed on the edges of his patience — time was too important for him to play a stubborn mule, so Tommy striaghtened his posture and hid his hands in his pockets for the comfort of his stance. "What happened to the pub is Irish business," he explained the part he knew she cared most about; sign that this was indeed what she was looking to hear, Tommy finally met her eyes. "In this situation, for everyone's safety, it is best if some things remain undisclosed."