𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ♛ thomas shelby

xx | ᴡɪɴᴅs ᴏғ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ

His voice came out unintentionally hoarse. "I need that drink."

"No idea what you're on about, Shelby." The Italian feigned innocence, downing both of their drinks with a quick motion.

"It's some good fuckin' whiskey. I do hope it's not Irish."

By the fire in her eyes he realised she had already connected the dots concerning the unfortunate destruction of The Garrison. With a sigh he leaned back into the leather chair, dragging a hand over his tired eyes.

"I need to call Moss. Family meeting at nine tonight."

She takes pity on him, going for a refill of the drinks and placing one in front of him. "Right and then you'll tell me."

"It's my business, and I don't intend to involve you in such matter." He deflects stubbornly.

"Because you don't trust me?" Her mind couldn't help but reminisce of a certain blonde she called her friend, whose shadow still lingered in the back of her mind.

"Because I don't want you to get hurt." He raised his voice, unintentionally. It was the easier way to say she was the only person her fully trusted, and the one he felt completely undeserving of.

"I'll pull it out of you, even if I have to bring in the big guns." It was a challenge, and the one she'd gladly take up.  Setting her glass down she marched out of the office, heels clacking against the floorboards as she made her abrupt exit.

Now left alone to his thoughts, Tommy's eyes fixated on one of the photographs on the desk;  a photo of a family of three boys and a girl with their mother. It was taken one spring morning, only days before the Easter. Tommy, Arthur, John and Ada posed seriously, pretending to be professional and smart, with a smiling dark-haired woman with her arms wrapped around them. 

In the inner corner of the frame there's one more photograph, of the length of a thumb, like the ones used to put into a medallion or passport.

Tommy's electric eyes drank in the smiling face of the woman he loved from the photograph.

Then, he made his choice and grabbed the phone, dialling Moss.

*:･ﾟ♛･ﾟ:*

Though almost two years had passed since the Shelby family extended their premises from their humble betting shop, the family meetings still commenced in the same room, around the same table. The only difference was the increased number of participants and the sleek black piano Tommy insisted on installing in the corner of the room.

She was convinced it would bring a dose of professionalism and posh into the betting establishment.

Buying off the next two houses in the Watery Lane, the shop was extended, polished up and able to house a new safe room and offices, as well as more space for the bookies and the customers to wait to place their bets.

"Where the bloody hell is Tommy?" It's John that breaks the silence settled between the family members, checking his watch for what had to be the tenth time in two minutes.

He stood near the stairs where Esme sat, though not a blood member of the family she earned that place by loyalty and mothering one of John's children.

"He's on his way." Jumping to his feet, Arthur set off towards the crates stacked by the fireplace, his heavy footsteps echoing through the room.

Behind his back John and Polly exchange both looks of concern and amusement. For the last few months Arthur had become a slight cause for concern. He spent his days in the boxing ring, his mood swinging like a pendulum clock, and temper mirroring the one of a tempest.