━━𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 [𝐓.𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐁𝐘]

𝘹𝘪𝘪. -𝘥𝘰𝘶𝘻𝘦

Taken back slightly by her touch he gulped, not daring to loose himself in the soft gently pats of the material wiping away the reminders of the garrison. "You don't want to know."

Dawn hummed slightly, not agreeing or disagreeing to his statement. She wasn't so sure she wanted to hear the gristly details however if he wanted to talk, she would let him. Neither of them talked, letting the sound of trickling water from the tap envelope the silence they had created.

"-it wasn't supposed to happen. She wasn't supposed to shoot."

The blonde woman pondered his question, contemplating an answer, searching her mind for any reasonable answers to his ramble.
"Who?"

He looked Dawn in the eyes as he spoke, though her focus was on his hand, wiping away the splatters of crimson. "Grace. A barmaid. She.. she wasn't supposed to shoot." He started, "The IRA men, the police were supposed to come on the sixth chime, they were there to kill me."

She pulled the cloth from his knuckles, swirling it around in the water once more, before peering up at his face. Bringing it up and moving up to his cheek once more, grazing over the small scar, cleaning a smudge she had missed, "Perhaps she had her own reasons. We all have secrets Tommy."

Realising his gaze was else where, she drifted her eyesight down to where is vision centred on. Bringing his hand to graze the area, fingers attaching to the chain, toying intensely with the wedding band that hung off it, "That we do Dawn Johnson. What may yours be?

Her own slender digits came up to wrap his which played with her ring, she felt his heat move closer as his free hand lightly graze her cheek bone, cupping the side of her face and tilting it up. Her heart was beating like a bang of drums, ferociously almost sure that it was to shoot out of her chest like a bullet, self consciousness firing rapidly at her brain, because she was unaware if he could hear the blood running vigorously around her flushed body, or the small pants that escaped her.

He angled his head down, brushing his lips against hers, her plump rosy edges touching his chapped once like a sprinkling of snow in early winter, yet unable to settle. For the ring meddled into her fingers felt cold, too cold. She guiltily lowered her head, being both hands to grasp his and slightly push him away, "je suis désolé, je ne peux pas."

She didn't look at him, not wanting to meet his dejected look, "I can't.. I'm sorry." She repeated her apologies, listening to him cough to ease the tension. "It's.. it's late Tommy-"

"Right." He interrupted. Standing up and moving past her, leaving her standing some in the bathroom as she heard the door slam.

"Merde!" She shouted at herself, looking at her flustered appearance in the dirty mirror, sweeping the hair off her forehead and groaning into her hands, "God damn you Elijah! Damn you."

She filed out the bathroom, forgetting about the bloody water that laid in the sink. Walking back to the kitchen table she started the night at and gulping down the whiskey, all rationality leaving her as she poured another glass, fuller then the last. Throwing herself down on the chair and drinking it back. The burn dulled from her still pounding heart that seemed stuck in her throat, throbbing with embarrassment.

Embarrassment from Tommy and embarrassment from what she had become, throwing down the alcohol to give her some relief. Dawn was not the same girl she had been before meeting Thomas Shelby, he had changed her, and she was blissfully unaware whether it was for good or for worst.

♕

Love being a cockblock

𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫