𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 ♛ thomas shelby

xxɪᴠ | ʀᴇғʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴜs

     With a sigh she lowered herself in the adjoining armchair, wrapping her robe tighter around her body. "I forget how old he is sometimes. He'll always be that little boy I taught letters and numbers."

     "I hope to have one of me own one day. Don't know which sorry woman would settle for this life though," the oldest Shelby brother gave a mournful chuckle that tightened the strings around her heart painfully.

     "I know Arthur.  You'd be a wonderful father."

     "I killed that kid, Cat," his voice was thick with emotion. "Beat him into a pulp."

     She'd heard about the incident a few days ago, and the way he lost control over his strength and actions which resulted in the death of some boy. Thomas accompanied her as soon as they heard, to see the body they recovered after they unlatched his unstable brother — one couldn't tell if the damage was done by a wild animal, or simply an uncontrollable individual.

  "That kid entered the ring with his consent, freely, knowing the consequences. Now tell me that isn't right." Cat bent down with a sigh, helping him with his tie.

     "Listen, I don't agree with Polly and that godawful syrup she's given you — that's a nasty shit, just opium and bromide, and it just wipes you off completely. I don't agree with Thomas either because he pretends to not care, because he's been trying to bury his memories for too long now and he can't let them swim out in the open," she paused slightly.

     "You're a good man Arthur, always was and always will be. But you've gone through the unimaginable horror of war and you need help. Will you let me help you, find you a proper doctor in London when this opening has settled?"

     "Thank you."

     "You're my sister Cat." His thick moustache wobbled as he reached forward to grasp her hand in his own.

     "And you're my brother." Cat assured him with a warm smile. With a heavy sigh, she reached into the pocket of her robe for the devious bottle she took from Finn.

     "Here, just for tonight. Can't have the owner of the fuckin' pub being a sorry glum bastard." She jested, unscrewing the bottle and pouring a bit of the white powder on the bedside table.

     "That should be enough to keep you steady till tomorrow," she stood up to go and leave him to it, only to be interrupted by Arthur as she was at the door.

     "Kitty."

     She glanced back at him expectantly. "Yes, Arthur?"

     "You ought tell 'im before it's too late," both knew what he was talking about.

     "We live a dangerous life."

     Cat gave a slight nod of her head. "I know." She whispered, disappearing down the hallway.

*:･ﾟ♛･ﾟ:*

     Where once there were plain, wooden chairs and matching tables, scratched by use and stained with spilled drink that sunk deep into the wood, now stood chairs upholstered with a burgundy velvet fabric, golden painted frames and shining mahogany tables.

It was exceedingly lavish, like those grand London clubs where champagne flowed in streams, its splendour mirroring Tommy's vision of affluence he strived towards.

     "Take that. Take that an' all." Arthur hauled the crate with drinks up on the bar, boisterous and loud while he distributed drinks to the guests sitting around.