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❝no one loves me like you do❞ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
ELEANOR PARTED FROM GRACE WITH A GASP, HER EYES WIDENING AT THE SOUND OF FRANTIC KNOCKING ON THE BAR DOORS. She straightened her spine, meeting the blonde's panicked gaze.
"Were you expecting company?"
Grace shook her head, lips spit-slicked and swollen from the ferocity of Eleanor's kiss. Her heart was still racing, and she looked over her shoulder from their place behind the bar with wide eyes. "No, I wasn't."
"Shit," Eleanor cursed quietly, stepping away from Grace and missing the way the woman deflated at the loss of her touch. "Stay here."
The woman stepped around the bar, weaving through the tables quickly to get to the doors. Her frown deepened when she saw the frantic man outside, and he quickly pushed past her into the bar. "Tommy, what's going on?"
"Leave that open," He ignores her, gesturing to the door she'd moved to shut.
He goes and locks another set of doors, and then turns to purposefully place chairs at a table in the middle of the bar floor. He spares a fleeting glance for Grace's somewhat disheveled appearance, and then takes in Eleanor's wide eyes, but he doesn't linger on the thought that crosses his mind, nor the feeling that said thought brings him.
Tommy takes his cap off finally, and Eleanor takes a few steps towards him, debating reaching for his hand. "Tommy, tell me what's going on, please."
Though her tone contradicts her words, the look in her eyes gives her away like it does every time he looks into the pools of brown.
"Are you expecting trouble?" Grace's trembling voice comes from behind them, and Tommy looks over Eleanor's head to nod at Grace.
"Yeah," He takes his gun out and Eleanor instinctively reaches for her cap that had been thrown haphazardly on the bar when she'd first arrived at the bar to meet Grace.
"At this hour?"
"Midnight is as good an hour as any." He sniffs, blue eyes wide and frantic, and eternally panic-inducing to Eleanor.
Eleanor tells her internal debate to fuck off as she reaches for Tommy's hand, turning his attention from Grace back onto her. He looks down at her, taking a deep breath for the first time in what feels like hours. "Thomas,"
He blinks, eyes fluttering and begging to stay shut at the lilt of his name on her tongue, her voice calling to him through his fear. "Eleanor,"
"What is going on?"
He heaves another sigh, taking in the air greedily as her touch seems to give him the ability to do so again. "When the St. Andrew's bell strikes midnight, two IRA men are going to come through that door. When they have what they want, they plan to kill me. I need you both to stop that from happening."
