We Meet Again (Thomas Shelby)

Chapter Thirteen: Projections from the War

Sorina's POV:
From the moment I was accepted into the Peaky Blinders, there was a shift in the air all throughout Birmingham. It was as if everyone knew I was protected and steered clear from me. I began getting the same fearful glances the rest of the Shelby's got and although I know it should bother me, oddly enough it doesn't. I felt more safe than I did two days ago; knowing that if someone does touch me, there will be consequences that don't need to involve the police. A part of me wonders if that's the best mindset to have, but I can't help it. I walked confidently down the road, the mills practically exploding with work as I passed by.

Opening the doors to the Garrison, the first thing I do is greet Grace, who has become quite the friend to me since she's arrived. Her kind nature is rather refreshing after a hectic day of work. "Good afternoon, Sorina. You're early." I shrugged my shoulders and removed my hat, placing it on the bar. "Only slightly, my friend. Saturdays are our busiest day, you know that." She gave me a confused look. "Do you think I can't handle it?" I shook my head. "There's no reason for you to have to do it alone. That has nothing to do with your ability to do so." I told her kindly, giving her a small smile. She smiled and nodded back. "Yes, I guess you're right. Want anything to drink?"

"Rum please." I took out a coin, placing down in front of me. "Dark or white?" She questioned as she turned around. "Dark, if you can." She nodded and poured me a cup, placing it down in front of me. "How's your relationship with Thomas?" She asked with a sly smirk. Her and I have bonded over our discussions of men, always by her initiation of course. She's spoken about a past lover of hers in Ireland, but never about where he is now or what happened between them. Sometimes when she brings up the conversation, it's weirdly timed but I try not to question it too much. I mean, truly, what could she possibly need the information for other than curiosity? I gave her a playful glare as I took a sip off my glass. "It's not a relationship, Grace. We're...unknown at the moment." She gave me a pointed look. "And why haven't you spoken to him about it?"

"Because I like where we are at the moment. The way he puts his arms around me when nobody is looking or the discrete kisses in hallways or the back room here, it's almost like a secret. And that feels...good! Talking about what we are now would take away that feeling, I think." She chuckled. "I think it makes you feel rebellious. That's a side you've never explored, I'm sure." I laughed and finished my drink in one motion, placing the glass back on the bar loudly. "Of course not. You would know, growing up Catholic like I." She nodded her head in understanding, turning around to place the bottle back on the shelf. I looked at the clock one last time, realizing I better start work soon. The list of things to do before business booms is almost a mile long.

As we went through the list a task at a time, Grace and I continue to laugh and converse. We laughed so loud sometimes I was sure Harry would come out of that office of his to tell us to quiet down. He was quite the stick in the mud for someone who doesn't get to witness the greatest, clumsiest moments of my dear friend. It's hard to believe she worked in a pub previous considering her track record of dropping glasses and buckets of water. As people progressively began to gravitate inside, Grace's rhythm began get better. Her job for the night was to run the bar as smoothly as she could while I ran tables. I was more personable in that regard.

Drinks were flowing all around me as the working men drank their checks away. I couldn't imagine working in a mill; it's a dangerous job after all. The least these men can do is get a drink at the end of the night. My body was running back and forth from the bar to the tables so much I could feel my legs get tired. My heart was speeding up, and it became apparent that I must be unhealthy to already be tired. "Grace, a bottle of scotch!" I called out over the loud noise, placing my tray on the bar top. She nodded and grabbed a bottle, placing it and three glasses on my tray. "Thank you, love!" I turned around, only to be met with a wall of men. Although Saturdays are busy, it's never been this packed. I was surprised we could fit so many people inside at one time. Harry had to rush out of his office to help Grace because she didn't have the capacity to handle so many people. Eventually, we became so swamped that we could hear each other speak. I ran over to stand on Harry's left, Grace on his right. "What should we do?" She asked as loud as she could. "I don't know." He told her before turning around, attempting to address the wall of people. Nobody was listening; they were yelling orders left and right. I grabbed onto Grace's arm, forcing her to look at me. "You sing, yes?" She nodded, confused as to why I was asking. I pulled her over to the corner of the room, grabbing an empty chair. "Sing! Get their attention, sing!" She gave me a shocked look, struggling to get her thoughts together before she belched out the first song that came to her mind. For a moment, people couldn't hear her, but as her beautiful voice traveled lovingly around the room, the men began to settle and quiet, staring at her in surprise. I smiled up at her, giving her a light thumbs up before heading over to the bar to stand on top of it. "Sing along if you know it!" I yelled, beginning to mouth the words. A couple men began to sing with us, and soon, we had the whole room singing. I smiled brightly around the room, bending down to pass out the shots Harry was discretely pouring.