WRITTEN FOR ME ( thomas shelby )

005 ━ His Soldier Heart ..

━━━━━━ ༻ 005 ༺ ━━━━━━
" His Soldier Heart "

          OUTSIDE THE SLIDING DOORS BEHIND him, the noise of their betting endeavours was in full bloom, as most mornings since they've gone legal thanks to the deal with Kimber. Though unspeakably grateful for the incone they were getting off of it, for the sake of an early family meeting dissecting his decision-making right before his eyes, Thomas had an unwavering annoyance building up from the constant clicks of coins on wood mixing in with chatter slowly passing into background noise.

His elbow felt the sturdiness of the chair's arm a little stronger than a few long minutes ago, when perhaps even his posture had been better sitting in it. Now, his right hand lifted lazily to his mouth the cigarette he was holding, while his eyes watched on unblinking the debate his family had proposed.

"You're awfully quiet," Polly stopped amidst the conversation soundly led by John and Arthur to return the attention to its natural center, towards Thomas. "You really ain't got nothing to say?"

Thomas sighed deeply, reaching forward under the expectant gaze of his family and putting out his cigarette in an ashtray while they all waited for his answer. "Well," he paced his speech slower than usual, though he required no more thinking towards fleshing out his answer. "It sounds to me like you've all already made up your mind."

Polly's jaw clenched at the nonchalance with which he commented his overall dismissal of joining the debate and actually defending his choice. It was infuriating to see her nephew expect his word to be considered law at that table, as if this business life she's been fending for them all was a mere extension of the war that had scarred him too deeply to leave behind
"And it sounds to me like you couldn't care less of our shared opinion, nor my advice."

"All I heard were complaints," Thomas retorted, his calm gaining through his tone a nuance of superiority. "If you do not like the money—"

"Do not stretch your arm further than your sleeve will reach!" Polly interrupted, her right fist closing on the table. It was a gesture of authority that drew Thomas' attention.

"Kimber, Campbell, Lee... Now Alloways," Arthur took into account the names that have demanded this family meeting in the first place. "It's starting to feel like more than we can handle. And what you owe to the deal with the Americans..." He lowered his voice and leant forward, "Tommy, we don't have that sort of cash."

A car's horn blew outside, startling their hushed conversation to a stop.

"What in the bloody...?" Polly faded her curse off deliberately, standing up once the car horns were replaced for banging on their door. Unlike the others, Tommy's sign that something was afoot was less in the ruckus and more in the silence that had fallen over the betting shop outsider their frail doors. There was only one thing capable of silencing men invigorated by the passion for bets so quickly and without at least a chance to an uproar of protest: a woman. By the single extra beat that thundered uncomfortably in his numbed chest, Tommy had the faintest hunch on who might be the one causing an interruption to his judgment.

As soon as Polly opened the doors to the betting shop, the voice that explaimed from behind him in utter joy confirmed his hunch and throbbed a second time liveliness in his tired heart.

"Arthur!" Jackie Alloways beamed to see a familiar face. After the creak of a chair, she recognized the man who had been sitting with the back at her, now slowly looking over his shoulder as a prelude to turning around, as well. "And Tommy. Apologies, but the gift I brought is for Arthur alone as we had the pleasure of sharing a drink." Jackie walked around the man that had previously posted himself in line of stopping her from advancing and held out a bottle of golden liquid. "Seems only fair you get to taste some real whiskey, brought all the way from my distillery back home." While she spoke, and the men stood up from their chair, Tommy stole a glance at his brother, enjoying to see more glimmer of light reflected from her voice into his eyes. He understood perhaps then, better than before, how Jackie had kept miraculously kind memories from the war: her voice calmed the hearts of soldiers more than her hands could ever hope to.