i found you .. and you found me // Thomas Shelby

57 - only one

"Looking in your eyes, makes me wonder how I got so much time with you and there's more around... I know all the competition that's after you, but I get to thinking, is this too good to be true? That we're living, in a fairytale no malice and no lies, baby you, it's hard to believe, that the love you have inside is only mine ... that's how I know, I can't, be your only one," Ariana Grande-Butera

"Good morning, Alfie," Tommy greeted the Jew as he was notified of his presence with a rather loud horn. 

"Yeah, it is," Alfie replied, "so how come everybody's in fucking bed?"

Studying the man in front of him who stood behind Alfie, Tommy cleared his throat. "So, this much be Goliath. Right. Let me introduce you to David. This way boys." 

As Tommy turned on his heel, Alfie commented, "I assume that David's out of bed?" 

Without a reply, Tommy led Alfie down to his distillery which had been in the making for a while. No one had knowledge of the distillery apart from Arthur, and with his brain inside his thick skull, Tommy knew the news was safe with him. 

"Oh, right, the problem, right, between rum and gin, right, is that gn right, it leads to melancholy," Alfie hummed as he walked into the distillery. "Whereas rum incites violence, right, and it also allows you to be liberated from your self-doubt. I hear you're probably more in need of the old rum at the moment, rather than gin, mate." 

Whilst continuing to study Alfie, a bird fluttered above the men catching Alfie's attention. "Oh dear, brother," Aflie spoke in disgust. "You've got fucking starlings, mate. You know that?" he said, reaching for his gun, pointing it to the cieling. "That shit will rot your pipework. These bastards only understand one language." 

Holding a hand out to Alfie's arm, Tommy stopped Alfie from blowing his distillery to pieces. "It's alright, Alfie. There's no need. It's alright, I'm, er, getting a kestrel." 

Tucking his gun back into its holster, Alfie turned to Tommy. "I hear you've got Italian's mate, and not just the Mrs either. You got a kestrel for them and all?" 

"Yes," Tommy nodded. "I have a kestrel for them and all." 

"Well, then everything is confirmed then, init?" Alfie spoke. "Yeah, weakness behind the eyes. Don't blind too much, alright? You smell of, coal and horses. You are back where you belong, Tommy." 

With the distant sound of heels clicking along the floorboards, Tommy passed a glass of gin to Alfie. "I know you don't touch it, but you have a good nose." 

"Where's the Mrs? Ain't see or heard from her in a while?"

"She's uh, resting," Tommy lied, waiting for Alfie to move on with his wonders of where his fucking wife was. 

But, Giorgia appeared at the right time, and a smile beamed on Alfie's face. "Speak of the wop herself," Alfie cheered, "are you ears burning darlin?" 

"Something like that," Gia smiled, receiving two kisses from the Jew, walking around the 6ft bloke who stood by the stairs. "Who's this?" 

"My nephew."

"He's fucking tall," Giorgia commented, looking at the man. 

"Yeah, he is, yeah," Alfie nodded, "huge cock too." 

With a glaring look from Tommy, Alfie turned back to the gin. "Right, well, you've gotta ask yourself seriously though, you know, did I even want to piss and shit indoors? You know, or was I actually born to defecate in fields and outhouses? This is a serious issue, Tommy. Your people, your class, and my religion are quite similar actually, because you just cannot wash it out, you know, because it came out of your mother's tits," Alfie smelt the gin and had a look of disapproval smeared accross his face. "Hm, no, the American's want it sweeter, right, darlin?" Alfie asked, passing the gin to Giorgia who stood watching the scene unfold in front of her.