Cost of The Chase | T. Shelby ✓

03 | Finally Taller

She didn't know how to feel about his sudden disappearance. She had expected something else... something more. She sat at the bar in The Garrison, drunk as ever. "Get me another one pretty lady." Whenever Sylvia got wasted she proved to be... less herself. The woman who said her name was Grace nodded and poured another drink. 

Sylvia laid her head on the cool top of the bar, relishing in the feeling. The feeling slightly dulling her horrendous headache. She knew it would only worsen her pain by drinking more but getting drunk was all she could think about now. Sylvia thought of a wonderful reunion in her head.

She thought about how she and Thomas would go somewhere, just to talk. But it turns out that Aunt Polly's words held far more weight than she had been expecting. "Are you sure you can handle another?" Sylvia rose her eyebrow at the blonde.

"You are a barmaid, correct?" Grace nodded, "Then bloody serve me! I'm payin' ain't I?" Sylvia also got angry when she got drunk. An angry and emotional woman is not to be meddled with. Sylvia's eyes were drooping, it was hardly nightfall and she could barely see straight. But a wave of nausea has hit Sylvia like a horse. 

Fighting against the urge to vomit, she downed the glass of whiskey and slammed a shilling on the bar. "There ya go," Her voice was curt and bitter. Just like the aftertaste on her tongue. She needed water. Sylvia stumbled off of the stool, she nearly fell but caught herself with a giggle. Typically after a fleeting burst of anger, she would get to laughing.

It seemed as though that tonight was one of those nights. When Sylvia finally walked outside, she realized that it was raining. The cold water felt amazing on her skin, she wasn't wearing a coat so it soaked right through her dress as she walked back to the Shelby residence. Sylvia smiled with her eyes closed a majority of the walk.

That is until she was nearly run over by a taxi. She cursed at the driver loudly and vulgarly, very unladylike. She struggled with the lock on the door but managed to get it after using her dress to grip the doorknob. Although soaked to the bone, Sylvia felt warm and bubbly. As though she'd been laying by a fireplace. Slyvia walked up the stairs slowly, she leaned on the wall for support before the sound of feet rushing toward her caused her to nearly fall.

When the hands gripped her waist, she felt ice shoot through her veins. Her fist collided with her attacker's throat before her arms are pinned to her side. She was going to die. Sylvia's wide brown eyes met the pale blue ones of Tom Shelby. The fire she vaguely remembered was extinguished, they're now an ocean blue. 

Swelling with concern. "Are you alright?" This was the first time she'd ever hear Tom's voice and she probably won't even remember it. He loosened his grip on her. He looked to be in a rush.

"Shouldn't you run off again?" Her words were bitter and her teeth were beginning to chatter, the cold was setting in. Tom almost smiled, perhaps it was the fact that she hadn't changed much. Or perhaps the prospect of her dying from a cold was satisfying to him. 

Tom took a step away, he looked to the front door. "I'll be back." Sylvia wouldn't meet his eyes, she just nodded and didn't watch him as he left the house.

Her entire body shook due to her low temperature. Sobriety had taken its toll long ago. Since then, she's been shaking in the bed trying to warm up in any sense. She breathed out a gasp, the sound of her teeth battering against one another was going to make her go mad.

The door opened and she looked up to see the one entering, Tom. He had a folded blanket in hand. Sylvia sat up against the urge to ignore him. She wanted to talk to him. "I didn't hear you come in." Thomas didn't meet her eyes for a moment, but when he did Sylvette wanted to give him a hug. She resisted the urge.

"I didn't want to wake you, although I suppose you haven't been able to fall asleep after running in the rain?" Sylvia shook her head, her hair had just begun to dry. Tom sat beside her, on the edge of the bed. Still not looking at her. The room remained silent for quite some time before he spoke. The same question Polly had asked, "Why'd you come back?" His voice was low, hardly above a whisper.

Sylvia didn't know if she should lie to him, say that she came back for him. Or that she had never left... "I couldn't take it anymore," Tom rose his eyebrows in question, "I hated it there from the first day to my last. They adopted me for sinister reasons and being alone with Paul was unbearable." Sylvia didn't want to bore him with the diminutive details.

"If you think things are going to be the same, you're wrong." Tom's voice was still gruff, water was dripping from his hair. What had happened when he left in a rush?

"If I thought that, I wouldn't have come back. I am not an idiot, Tom." Sylvia wasn't going to let him belittle her. "If I wanted the same thing then I wouldn't have left." She had no choice but it didn't matter. Sylvia should have fought a bit harder.

In Tom's hand sat the blanket, "You should get some rest." Sylvia shook her head. 

"I want to catch up. What's happened in the time I've been gone. Besides the fact that you're finally taller than I am." She tried to make him laugh or even smile in the least but she got nothing in return. 

Tom stood up and opened his arms and with it, the blanket. "Come on, lay down. I can't have you getting a cold, Aunt Pol would kill me." Sylvia couldn't argue with him, she was freezing and tired from being intoxicated. She pulled the blankets over her and Tom spread the new addition by lifting it into the air. It landed on the bed softly. Tom looked her in the eyes for the first time, "We can catch up tomorrow. 10 AM, Polly'll take you there." 

Sylvia couldn't fight the sly remark, "It's a date." She barely mouthed the words and Tom nodded. 

"Yea, it is." With that, he was gone. It wasn't quite the reunion she had been expecting, but it made up for that afternoon.