↳ 𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬

𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 - 𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙞𝙚 𝙭 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙨

♧

word count; 1729
warnings; none

"Morning, Miss Solomons." Rosalie, the new maid, greets you at the door with her usual chirpy tone and friendly smile.

"Morning." You return the smile, handing her the wicker basket of groceries you'd picked up on your walk back. Some send their maids to do the shopping but you've always preferred to do it yourself. "Let me guess, he's still on the balcony watching the ships."

"Actually he has a visitor ma'am." You turn away from the coat rack with a puzzled frown. "Thomas Shelby, miss." She whispers as if the man himself were listening in. Your face turns sour at the mere mention of the name.

Both men string their conversation in the air when you march into the room, your gaze locked on the ocean-eyed man as you connect your hand to his cheek. It's irksome the way he blinks and straightens his head again. Seemingly unbothered by your outburst.

"You bastard." You spit with disgust. "Fucking bastard!" You shove his chest. You're in two minds as to whether you'd prefer to shove him from the balcony.

"Alright," Alfie interrupts. "That's enough of that. No need to assault our guest even though he bloody well deserves it."

"No." You toss a warning glare to your father. He's all too familiar with your attitude, it's one of his many quirks passed down to you. "You have some nerve coming here." Thomas scratches the side of his face, calmly meeting your eye. "You shot him."

"He also shot me." Thomas glances to Alfie who merely shrugs. "Consider it a mutual shooting."

With your arms folded over your chest you face your father. The way you completely blank Thomas despite him standing inches away tempts a light smile, one that he masks to avoid fuelling your temper.

"Why is he here?"

"He was about to tell me but then you charged in lookin' like an angry butterfly." He lovingly motions to your colourful attire. Now that makes you frown because he was the one who bought you these very clothes. You'll look lovely darlin', he told you.

Still you remain scowling at the amused man who has taken it upon himself to light a cigarette. Your finger taps against your bicep, seconds away from removing it from his lips and stomping on it.

"Sweetheart." Alfie grunts upon shifting to make some room. "Come on." Through the corner of your eye you watch a ring adorned hand pat the empty space beside him. A final disgruntled glare is passed to Thomas before you inevitably cave, arms dropping by your sides as you lower beside your father.

Thomas removes his hat and eases into the chair opposite you both. You observe him like a hawk, crossing one leg over the other and adjusting your skirt. Alfie sends you a reassuring smile, dropping his hand over yours that lies in your lap.

"Do excuse her, Tom, she's just protective over her old man, aren't you love?"

"Only when an arsehole takes a shot at you." You catch the faint smile that Thomas struggles to fend off. "I hope for your sake you're unarmed." He simply nods to confirm.

"Tell me, how soon did you know that I was not dead?"

"You wrote me a letter, Alfie."