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❝dirty up the razor❞ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
"WHERE'S THE BOY?"
Eleanor looked up from the desk as Polly hurried into the betting shop, the furrow in her brow deepening at the sight of the frantic woman's state.
"In the back room," Polly sighed, setting her things down. "I only brought him because afterwards, we're going to the museum."
"He wanted to come in and say hello-"
"Shut up, John,"
Eleanor's eyes widened and she shot her gaze to John, who looked equally as shocked at Polly's interruption.
"There is nothing of interest to Michael in this room." Polly waved them all off, a terse smile on her face that made Eleanor tense. "Tommy, get on with it."
Tommy raised a brow at her demanding tone, leaning over Eleanor to ash his cigarette. "Last night, one of our men had his throat cut in Winson Green. This morning, we had a telegram saying it was Sabini who ordered it."
"And it says here that Thomas Shelby and Eleanor Price are next," Arthur pipes up, tearing the telegram into pieces with disgust clear in his voice.
Polly's eyes drifted down to Eleanor, who simply nodded in silent confirmation.
"If our men think we can't look after them in prison, they'll not work for us. Sabini knows that. So we need to get the Green sorted out,"
Eleanor runs her hand over her mouth, wiping away a nonexistent mess as she looks at the awaiting men. "Scudboat, take one of the boys and break a couple of windows, get yourselves arrested. Tommy will have our coppers get you into the Green so you can find the bastards that did it."
The dark haired man nods, looking around briefly. "Instead of breaking a window, can we pinch a car?"
The boys chuckle around them at his words and Eleanor's face twists unhappily, prompting a shrug from Scudboat. "What? Everybody else is getting a bloody car, I'm still on a donkey."
Eleanor takes in a sharp breath, and the first sound of her anger leaves her lips as Tommy places his hand on her shoulder, silently pushing her back down into her chair. The Shelby man squeezes her firmly, looking sternly at the Blinders. "Just get yourselves fucking arrested, it doesn't matter how. And before you all laugh, a boy is dead. He was just a kid,"
The laughter easily dies down at Tommy's words and his sharp blue eyes drift back to Polly's face, scanning her impatient, borderline uninterested look. "We'll start a fund for his family, Pol,"
