FLAMES ━━ 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲

𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧.

𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙧 | 𝘈 𝘛𝘈𝘓𝘌 𝘖𝘍 𝘚𝘐𝘊𝘒𝘕𝘌𝘚𝘚 𝘈𝘕𝘋 𝘞𝘖𝘙𝘋𝘚

｡･:*:･ﾟ✧ ｡･:*:･ﾟ

THOMAS SHELBY was walking down the Garrison Lane, avoiding the workers and the soot with a cigarette in his lips and a knot in his stomach. He would never admit that he still felt emotions but the damned things, no matter how battered they had become while he was away in France, refused to leave him be.

In a flash, he was requesting the attention of the fire haired girl at the bar. The knot in his stomach churned his insides when he noticed her eyes lit ablaze as they met his.

"A bottle of whiskey and three glasses."

"Scotch, or Irish?" Annabel asked as she made her way to the whiskey bottles.

"Irish." Tommy replied, finishing a drag of his cigarette.

Annabel decided to play a game. "I've decided not to go to the races. You people are too much trouble," she said as she approached him, settling the glasses and the bottle down. "I could be convinced otherwise with a generous two pounds ten shillings towards the dress." She offered a sugary smile and Tommy almost laughed, letting a smile escape him.

"I've already given you three." He said, almost incredulously.

"See, that was for the pleasure of my company. I need a dress."

"I have a hard time believing you don't have something appropriate for the races, rich London heiress."

Annabel was unfazed and smirked at him. "How much did you pay for the suit you're wearing?"

"Oh, I don't pay for suits. My suits are on the house, or the house burns down."

Annabel rolled her eyes, "Yes, you're a big scary man, Thomas Shelby."

In the days that had passed Annabel had been spending a lot of time at the Shelbys, discussing with Polly, even accompanying her to see Ada, finally meeting the famed Shelby woman. There was a familiarity that had begun to form between her and the family, and she had begun to achieve a status amongst them which not only gave her permission to speak to them im ways no one else could without getting their brains blown but also made the citizens of Small Heath get out of her way as she walked.

"So, what shall I be then? A flower girl?"

Tommy took the bottle and the glasses and turned around. "I don't care, it's not me you're dressing up for." He said, and a bubble of disappointment inside Annabel burst.

"I don't know what I was expecting." She muttered, making Grace look at her weirdly.

Annabel had noticed that the barmaid had begun to show signs of jealousy at the proximity Annabel was developing with the Shelbys, and she wondered what screw of the woman's head had gone unhinged for her to desire such a thing.

As two men entered the private room of the Garrison, she noticed Grace leaning in, as to hear what they were saying. Annabel dismissed her as extremely nosy.

She was cleaning glasses when Grace turned to her. "What is going on, between you and Mr Shelby?"

Annabel scoffed, "Other than a fight to the death to see who is left standing? Probably nothing." Grace seemed relieved.