Tommy Shelby finally recognises the extent of his mental damage. An Illness that is eating away at his conscious being, devouring every last morsel of sanity in his head.
An illness that finally forces him to seek counsel from a professional.
To fi...
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What seemed like an endless night of disruption and detachment, Verity awoke in the dressing room of the club – glad for the peace and quiet of the establishment she'd walked into the night before. After hours, the club seemed to offer her a safe haven as of late, a place to be alone which rather contradicted the building's reputation of being crammed to the rafters night after night.
She had gone to make herself a coffee early in the morning, pulling out a petal pink dress from the plentiful rack in the dressing room that was casual enough to pass off as every day wear. Espresso in hand, Verity then made her way into Arthur's currently desolate office, where she started her morning's work of trying to sort herself a new home.
What a nightmare that would turn out to be.
-
Arthur's desk which was never tidy at the best of times, was now in a state of complete chaos. Page after page of newspaper adverts, scrawled notes with numbers scattered around and now a coffee cup that had been refilled far too many times.
The singer had lost track of the hours as she had tried to find a single place that would want to talk to her. The estate agents didn't seem to want to know – one reason was the fact she explained she already had a house and mentioned her means of employment, and they didn't seem to care much to that. Verity could only assume they thought there was something fishy going on. The other reasons as the fact no estate agent wanted to touch the woman for the simple yet so infuriating fact that she did not have a husband. God, they acted like it would be inappropriate to sort house viewings for a single woman in affluent areas of London where Verity's price bracket allowed her to be.
Unsurprisingly, she gave up around lunchtime. With her fatigued mind, she had let her head fall down onto the desk with the aim of getting a few minutes of shut eye – yet her exhaustion betrayed her and she fell into a deep sleep
Only to be awoken by the sound of knocking on the door. Despite the fact it was only knocks, Verity could almost hear the sarcasm.
Sharp as a shot, she bolted upright and brushed her rather unkempt hair out of her face, feeling her skin scorching hot as she set eyes on Tommy Shelby standing in the doorway.
"Not interrupting anything am I?" His voice dripped with a form of sarcasm that was so dry it could be been located in a desert climate. If the reason she had passed out asleep hadn't of been so trying, she may of cracked a smile.
"Only my descent into madness." She remarked, but her voice lacked it's usual witty lustre. A part of her was admittedly pleased to see him, but not even that could outshine her frustration. A subtle frown spread across Tommy's face as he paced further into the office, standing in the corner. Like a subconscious movement, his hand went for the case of cigarettes on the inside of his gun-grey coat pocket.
