Like a Horse Made of Air

We Chase the Sun (We Savor the Burn)

"Tommy," she whimpers.

Her cheek is pressed into the pillow while her hand works between her legs.

"Tommy," she cries as she peaks. "Tommy, please."

Then she slumps in a satiated sprawl amidst her bedding as dawn breaks over the city.

Not for the first time, does she wonder what he'd think about her newest bad habit. She wishes she could say she tried to imagine someone else, create a nameless man in her head so she doesn't spend her time projecting fantasies on a man she sees every day. The truth is her sorry attempts are hardly worth labelling as an honest try.

Attempts she gave up in the first week.

With a reluctant sigh she drags herself out of bed and sets up a bath. She's taken to bathing twice a day, some overly cautious part of her brain convinced someone will know exactly what she's up to if she doesn't. Breakfast next, followed by double checking her inventory log from the night before and making sure she packed accordingly.

Rosie has been as good as her word, discreetly spreading word about the availability of contraceptives through Wren's business. Her route has extended a fair bit to accommodate her growing business and diverse clientele. At the rate things are going she should be able to afford an actual shop in a few more months.

A knock echoes from the front.

She's quick to move through the house and open the door.

Blue eyes regard her 'neath a peaky cap and she doesn't even try to fight her smile, "Hello, Tommy."

She opens the door for him to enter and he nods as he steps through. He's made it to the kitchen and settled in what has become his chair by the time she closes the door and follows behind him. She makes up a little plate of toast with a soft cheese spread and sliced apples and leaves it on the table with a cup of tea for him to pick at. She makes herself a cup and then settles back to her work at the table.

She's cross checking the soothing mints that have come to be called Danny-Boys when he finally speaks up.

"Heard you sell contraceptives now," he states bluntly.

She pauses and looks up at him, "I do."

He takes a few drags on his cigarette then continues, "heard you had some that men can take."

She feels a little funny, having this conversation so soon after what she'd done in her bed. Like if she twitches wrong, he'll somehow just know she's taking a contraceptive herself now. That he'll see it written on her face the name she calls when she peaks.

Also cause for nerves is just how much she's inadvertently learned about this man's sex life. She doesn't think it would be far off to say nearly all of Small Heath's sex workers are now frequent customers. She hadn't asked after his or anyone else's habits. Hasn't needed too, finding most of her newest clientele overeager to overshare. Apparently, Tommy Shelby is a memorable man and every woman he passes some time with feels the right—or perhaps the need—to gloat.

"You heard right," she answers.

He locks eyes with her, and the silence drags before he quips, "you goin' to charge me?"

"If I were a better businesswoman I would," she quips back.

She gets up out of her seat and steps out the back. A quick perusal of her shelves nets what she's looking for and she returns with five different tins. She places them in a row in front of him.

"You have options," she explains. "This is Lothario, it's highly effective in so far as you won't get anyone pregnant while you take it, but it does tend to have the side effect of shortening a man's stamina. It takes seven days for full effect."