𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐃𝐄 ♚ 𝙩. 𝙨𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙗𝙮

ⅱ - 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘳

"Is it a problem?" she asked, lifting the glass to her dark red lips. The tyrannical businessman cocked his head and narrowed his icy glare, his guard already up. He hadn't come here for questions or to play games – he wanted his head fixed.

"Is what a problem?" he asked obvious, just to see if he could provoke a reaction.

The psychologist stopped and set her glass down onto the oak desktop with a gentle thunk, leaning back in her chair as she pursed her fingertips together in a steeple shape, long red nails gleaming like a dewy summer cherry in morning sunlight. She could already begin to read him – it was obvious that Thomas Shelby was obnoxious, guarded and put up a front of this dry sarcasm in order to protect deeper feelings.

"Is it a problem that I am a woman?" she asked, rolling her lips together momentarily before continuing, "I've had male clients in here before who have walked out because they feel it is inappropriate for a woman to be dealing in such matters."

Thomas cracked a small smirk at the mental image of some man throwing a temper tantrum, feeling he had been falsely lured in and tricked. He then shook his head softly in response to the doctor's question.

"I don't know if you know very much about me, Dr Grant." He started, reaching into his suit jacket pocket for the all-important case of cigarettes he was never seen without. "But I try to consider myself a modern man." He said, opening the case and placing the unlit cigarette between his lips, "And I say, if you've got the qualification – who cares what's between your legs."

A small humoured frown and smile was visible for a few seconds on Dr Grant's face before she decided that was a better answer than some she had received before. At least Mr Shelby was good at one thing, saying it how it was. He didn't dress it up or sugar coat it – it was plain and simple. If he was willing to open up about past difficulties with that approach, then perhaps working to resolve any problems he had might not be so difficult.

After a few moments, he picked up the water and examined it questionable as if to ask 'why isn't this whisky?' before taking a small sip, and looking back across at Dr Grant who hadn't said anything in a number of moments. Tommy was a little irritated and puzzled to say the least, when was she going to tell him how to get better?

"So, what is it I need to do then, love?" he started, his irritability shining through as he was hoping rather than sitting there with a bit of a smile on her face, that she would have started saying something by now. "How do I stop all this shit going on in my bloody head?"

Dr Grant shrugged, which only further pissed the Peaky Blinder off.

She was doing it to help provoke his mind to search for the answers himself – whereas Tommy just thought this was a smug gesture. The two of them were completely at separate ends of the pole at the moment.

"Mr Shelby," she started, getting up from her chair with a softened sigh as she could see the evident frown forming like thunder on his face. Fingertips gracing the top of her chair, she then turned to face the outside world, watching an old couple wandering down the drenched street outside.

"A poorly mind is not like a sprained ligament." She started, her well-to-do London accent clear and concise enough that even the most clueless minds could gather sense from what she was saying. Turning on her heels, she faced the Brummie again with a more tepid and encouraging smile.

"In order for you to start feeling mentally well again, we need to work together." She said encouragingly, slipping back into her seat and engaging eye contact with Thomas, gathering that he was in fact listening to her now as smoke plumed absently from the end of the cigarette.