Gun Metal And Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 9

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 9

Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it did burn down in one.

Masterlist

I sat inside a room with nothing in it and realised it was still full. This is when I knew I was enough.

Dorothy spent the rest of that morning attending to her duties in the bakery. Mrs. P came in that morning with a horrible cough so Dorothy, after much convincing, managed to send her home. Thursdays were slow days anyway.

Everyone wanted to wait til Saturday so they could swoop in and get the cheap bread. She didn't blame them.

It was safe to say though, that Dorothy was officially bored. With the slow business on Thursdays and Mrs. P being sick. She didn't have anyone to talk to. Only the gramophone to keep her company as she sung to the lovely tunes that crackled out of the fine machinery.

The gramophone started buffering weirdly, small blips of peculiar sounds flitted out sporadically, becoming louder and louder.

She fiddled with the needle on the board and only huffed. She turned it off in a hopes that it would be ok when she turned it back on again, only to realise that when she turned it off, the sounds didn't stop.

And they were still getting louder.

Dorothy looked back into the shop of the bakery, her brows furrowed - there was no one there.

Peaking out of the shop windows, she saw a van with men surrounding it and walking in front.

Men, with guns.

A rather Pompous looking man with a nasally South London accent was barking orders.

She scrunched her nose at the greasy looking man.

When he got around 20 metres away from the bakery, he stopped. The men held up their guns in front of them.

Dorothy did not fear guns. She heard the shots every night where she lived. She only feared those who could pull the trigger.

It was only when the pompous man stepped off the van and carried on rambling did she realise there was a second party.

Looking the other way, she spotted a group of men that she feared.

She did not fear these men for being men. She feared these men for the burden they carried and that they would unleash that burden for any cause that suited them.

She feared the Peaky Blinders.

——

Oh Icarus! For all you have fallen, still you flew!

And for a moment, the sun knew of you, too!

Thomas was not a man of violent rage. But Thomas had his moments.

Thomas had these moments only a few times in his life.

He had this moment when he found out his sister Ada was pregnant with his ex best friends child.

He had this moment when he lost the guns.

He had this moment when he realised that Grace was a spy. When he found out that the woman he'd almost fallen in love with, was an agent of the crown.

"Posh toffs." Thomas scoffed, "always bad news."

Thomas was fuelled by rage as he came face to face with Kimber's men. Anger at this posh twat for being... there? In his way. Blocking him from climbing the food chain.

He felt anger to Grace and her deceitful lies and curious glances.

Thomas only felt his rage dampen when he pulled up to the street where he was meeting Kimber.

The market.

A very specific part of the market.

Outside of the bakery.

The bakery where his Bonny worked.

Thomas' thoughts left Kimber, left Grace.

He focused solely on the woman he knew was peaking through the windows like other shop owners as they strained to hear the commotion going on outside.

He thought of the way her hair curled into ringlets, perfectly intertwining with other strands, framing her face. The way her small fringe fell In front of her eyes as she constantly fiddled with its placement on her face, bringing the curls to rest on her glasses that sat delicately on her youthful face.

The glasses that made her eyes look wide as if they were staring into his soul.

He thought of the way her hand fit into his when she held it that morning.

He clenched his fist, desperately, in an attempt to see if he could replicate the warmth she exerted.

Thomas couldn't bring himself to look at the bakery. He knew she was watching.

The way she reacted that morning to the presence of the Peaky Blinders left no doubt in his mind that when she put the pieces together, their short time of contact and pleasant silences, would come to a close.

Thomas, for the first time, wished he wasn't who he was.

But Thomas also realised that without being who he was, he wouldn't have met her, that stressful evening in the safe house.

He didn't know if it were a curse or a blessing

He cursed himself for not examining her beauty that night as she slept in the chair in front of him all that sleepless night.

——

The exchange went by in a blur.

Dorothy tried to process what she saw. She desperately racked her brain for excuses as she saw him.

Bubs.

Her Bubs.

Walking with the Peaky Blinders. He was the Peaky Blinders. He was the leader of the Peaky Blinders.

Her mind could only work at turtles pace as she tried to comprehend the information.

It was only now as Dorothy examined her roller dex of memories that she realised that she had never come into contact with a single Peaky Blinder.

Only seeing their peaked caps and razor blades from afar.

She heard stories of Thomas Shelby. Dreadful stories of Thomas Shelby.

But Dorothy was stubborn in her beliefs and Dorothy decided in the moment the first gun shot went off, that the man who was standing not even 30 metres away from her, was not Thomas Shelby.

That was her Bubs.

And her Bubs had just been shot.

Dorothy only gasped when when a man came leaping forwards in front of him collapsed as bullets penetrated his skin, shielding her Bubs.

Dorothy had seen death. But she feared that she'd never grow used to it. Not with the brutality that was just committed.

Dorothy missed the girl standing in the middle with a pram. Dorothy missed the greasy man get shot in the head. She missed the man walking out with a heavy artillery machine gun.

All she saw was her Bubs.

——

The opposing group dispersed and wondered away, unsure of where to go.

The Peaky Blinders started to dwindle away, the excitement gone and no more toys to play with.

A few men grabbed Thomas but he waved them off, telling then to get a drink.

He may be bleeding out, but he had one last thing to do before he went to get himself sorted out.

The men slowly left, sending him confused glances which he ignored as he slouched in the direction of the bakery.

Thomas had one last thing to do. He was selfish, he knew. But he needed to see her one last time, before she would waltz out of his life, probably the same way she waltzed in.

Fire in her eyes, determination raw and unfiltered.

He stood in front of the shop as it dauntingly looked over his body.

Thomas was only severed from his thoughts when he was pulled in to said bakery.

——

A very tense moment...

I'm excited for the next chapter. I like pulling last minute surprises out of the bag and I'm debating how to go about this one!

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

Gun metal and daisies- chapter 2

Maybe first impressions are a bit overrated anyway?

Masterlist

I would rather die of passion than boredom.

'Who the fuck are you?'

Only moments earlier was Dorothy spying on the house, walking around it, wondering in all of natures glory why the hell it was in her woodlands.

After practically attacking the door with her fist, it swung open to reveal the barrel of a gun.

Charming.

If she was being honest; Dorothy had never been held at gunpoint, and therefore had no idea how to deal with the situation she was now in.

Though passionate in her initial quest to give the owner of this house an earful, it felt as though now all her strength had diminished.

'Do I walk away and apologise quickly or continue to further anger whoever felt it justified to put a gun to my face'

To anyone else, it might've been a stupid question to consider, but her thoughts were serious and she was stuck between the two.

While deciding her reaction, the man in question spoke up again, "eh? Answer me."

Now only able to gape in disbelief, her facial expression filled with fearful determination, an oxymoron within itself.

The cogs turning in her brain, now stuttering to a halt as she heard the distant calls of police whistles; "now that's very strange," her mind was wandering in different directions.

Without any more words, he pulled her into the house, quickly determining she was not a threat and shut the door.

Dorothy, still not having said a word, let out incoherent stutters and gave the man an incredulous look.

Dorothy noted he had a strange air about him, it seemed like he commanded the air around him and demanded everyone's eyes to be on his. Not the kind of person she liked hanging around much.

He grabbed her by the shoulders and bent down to eye-level:

"Oi! Look at me, ok? Look at me." She did, only now coming back to reality, scared out of her wits. She herself didn't know why, but she chose to listen to what he had to say, "ok, there are police, coming this way, they are going to knock on that door there, and you are going to answer. They will ask you questions about a man coming through here; you are going to say you've seen nothing and get them to leave. Ok?" He spoke in harsh whispers that frightened her. Her anger gone, now she only trembled in her wellies, a ringing in her ears.

After she had registered his words, she felt very much inclined to do as he said; nodding her head.

He pushed her towards the door and took off for the next room, checking his gun on the way around the corner.

8 chambers. 8 bullets. Probably not enough to get all of them, but enough to get away.

Keeping a steady eye on the girl who had seemed to march in at the wrong place and wrong time, he had no sympathy for her, as a matter of fact, had no sympathies of any kind.

Though he hid it well, a brief moment of panic set in when an even more violent sound raptured on the door; "Birmingham police!" A nasally voice sounded through the hard oak. He peered around the corner, just enough to see her eyes almost watering.

Dorothy opened the door and a police man stepped up; "hello Miss, we were wondering if you have seen anything suspicious around these parts?"

Swallowing her nervousness, she stayed calm, though the buzzing in her ears kept her on edge.

"No officer, what kind of suspicious activity should I be looking for?" She lied smoothly. Scared out of her wits, feeling an abhorrent amount of guilt for lying.

The officer stiffened; he knew that rumours spread horribly around these parts of the city,

"Never mind that Miss." The copper paused for a second, she seemed startled and shifty,

"Everything alright, Miss?"

She viciously nodded her head. Though suspicious, he let the thought go.

"Sorry for the disturbance, enjoy your evening." The nasally man left along with his colleagues, stalking into the setting sun.

"That was a lot easier than I thought" the two mused.

It was silent again when she closed the door. Well, it was silent on the outside, in her head, the ringing kept going like alarm bells that had no off-switch.

The sound was so loud that she almost missed the sound of his harsh footsteps approaching her.

Thomas started approaching the woman, she seemed like she was in a daze, though her eyes were darting around the room, never really focusing on anything.

He sighed. He knew that look all to well: it was the look people had when sounds felt like they were going to cave in your skull; It was the look they had when they heard memories of past all around them, desperately searching for the cause of the noise, only ever finding the four walls of their home.

He walked back over to the whiskey he set on the table when she knocked on his door.

'Ah yes. Why did she knock on the door?' The thought crossed his mind, but when looking back over at the woman, he deduced maybe now was not the time.

Grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet he set them on the coffee table, poured them both two fingers.

He gingerly picked his glass up and tipped it back as though it were cough medicine with a foul aftertaste.

Thomas walked towards the woman, he shoved the glass into her shaking hands, too busy formulating a plan to be courteous.

He poured himself another two fingers and sat down on the sofa.

'I'll have to lie low for the night, head back tomorrow. The coppers won't come back here for the night so I'm safe for the time being.''

Dorothy, after a long while of standing stiffly by the door, gave herself a swift talking to: knowing that she was in the company of a stranger; a stranger with a gun; a stranger who pointed a gun at her; a stranger who had built a house in her lovely woodlands!

She turned around to face him with a snarl and grimace on her face. Only then realising the glass she had in her hand.

She stared at the contents of the glass: a rich brown colour. She brought the glass up to her nose: a pungent smell that she only ever smelt on the breaths of men who got too close.

'Whiskey' she thought. 'Typical.'

She padded over to where the man was sitting, cigarette in one hand, whiskey in the other.

He seemed lost in thought. Too busy in his own head to notice her presence.

"You built a house in the woods."

The sound of her voice startled him, though he didn't dare jump.

He was surprised for two reasons:

1. Because her voice sounded silvery compared to the meek voice he had heard not even five minutes ago.

2. Her sentence was said in an accusatory tone. Being accused of something was not alien to him but the crime which he seemed to have committed was certainly a surprise.

He didn't look up at her, though he still answered; her finding the former rather rude:

"Yep." His nonchalant answer only infuriated her more.

"You built a house in the woods," She stated again, "These woods are the only place in all of Birmingham where the smog leaves your lungs and you BUILT a HOUSE."

Thomas only now looked up at her. He had so many questions.

Was she daft? Did she have a screw loose? What's so special about the woods? Who even is this woman?

"Yes, I built a house in the woods. Are we stating the obvious or are you going to drink your whiskey and sit down?" His tone more a command then a question.

She did not sit down.

Dorothy, in these sort of situations (this of course being the first one with a run in with the coppers), would flounder over her words and do as she was told.

It seemed that this time, that was not the case.

This man - this monster - had built a house in her home (well, sort of home) and now had the audacity to sit there and boss her around.

Dorothy was not afraid - she was fuming.

She had no idea what to do in this moment: she wanted to scream at him; she wanted to slap his face into next week; she wanted to do so many things that she wouldn't ever do.

Her response was underwhelming. If anything it was rather pitiful.

She stamped her foot on the ground, and picked up her glass as if to throw it in his face, only to pause halfway through the motion as she felt that she had gone too far.

The contents of the glass spilled out in front of them. They both stared at the patch on the ground, as if it were going to grow legs and walk around.

The attempt to seem angry was almost laughable to Thomas.

She, even though embarrassed, felt guilty! I know, guilty! She stood there and felt like she had just killed a man.

Dorothy immediately rushes into action, she didn't have the mind to find any towels so she used the hem of her long flowing blue dress.

Thomas watched her for a second, baffled by the woman. He slowly leaned forward and grabbed her shoulder so she would sit back.

She was mumbling to herself quietly, something about the fact that she was glad it was a wooden floor and not a carpet, otherwise that would have been a pain to clean up!

She leaned back at the push on her shoulder and stared up at the man.

He looked confused - he was confused - as he stared back.

She stood up lowly and sat opposite him on the armchair, now feeling very foolish at her actions throughout the whole of this afternoon and evening.

"What's got you in a tizz then, eh?"

——

Chapter 2! Yayyyyy!

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 5

Intrigue and like are two very different things

Masterlist

No one expects an angel to set the world on fire.

Maybe it was the way she looked him in the eye and didn't back down. Maybe it was the way she smiled at him that made him think it was more addictive than all the whiskey in the world. Or maybe it was the way she rocked from side to side as she stood there, almost like she was dancing in the wind.

Whatever it was, he decided that he liked it. It maybe being her or just the air around her, but he liked it.

See intrigue is a funny thing to feel. It's stepping onto thick ice and expecting to fall through, and maybe you might. But oh, the things you find under the water.

So when she asked him if she could help with anything, Thomas quicker than a fiddle told a lie like it was his mother tongue.

"Do you know where I can find some bread?" Of course he knew, but she didn't need to know that.

A smile spread on her face, "I know just the place! If you would follow me!"

She led the way with a bounce in her step, the ribbons in her hair flowing out behind her, her pumps tapping against the floor like the snapping of fingers in a jazz club. Her curls sitting perfectly on her back.

Ahem. But he didn't notice any of that, no...

She flitted over to a stall that sat outside of the bakery, she looked back at the rude man.

His eyes were glancing around the streets, noticing that the people around the market had started to disperse, family's now going to sit down and eat whatever evening meals they could.

After a minute of watching the world go by, the last person to step out was Ms. P, the lady who owned the bakery.

"Hello Deary, I've just finished up in there so it's all ready for when you ne- oh!" The cheery smile on Ms. P's face vanished when she caught sight of the man standing opposite Dorothy,

"I uh- well i best be heading off now. See you on Monday, love!" The woman abruptly marched off.

Dorothy, seemingly clueless to the woman's distress shouted after her, "goodbye Ms. P, say hi to Bella for me!" Her cheerful smile staying on her face as she turned back to the rude man.

She still didn't like him, but that didn't mean she should be unkind.

"I'm afraid nothing I can sell you is fresh, but it's still good! I promise!" She leant on the stand as he examined the items in front of him. He wasn't really looking, he was actually trying to think of a conversation starter.

"What have you got against houses in the woods?" She minded his tone to be rather rude. The smile on her face faltering a bit.

She shrugged, "I just think that those kind of structures don't belong in the last patch of Mother Nature near us. This city is smog and brick, the woodlands is the only place you can breath and not blacken your lungs."

He nodded his head. Not agreeing with her, just accepting the answer.

Dorothy clapped her hands, "But never mind that, what tickles your fancy here?" She pointed to the display.

Before Thomas could speak, he was interrupted by a rain drop falling on his nose, then another in his hair, then on the ground in front of him. And soon enough, the sky was chucking it down.

"Oh crumbs!" She flailed her arms frantically as if she could stop the rain with sheer will power.

She grabbed as many of the produce she could off the stall and rushed into action, chucking them inside on the nearest counter top.

It was only the second time that she came back that Thomas even thought of helping.

He, having much larger hands and arms, picked up the remaining baked goods before they could get soggy.

When he entered the bakery, he instantly was invaded with the smell of fresh bread. The warmth surrounding his body completely from the furnace.

She sighed when he dumped the remaining items on the table; inspecting the loafs and the sweets, she decided they were still fit to sell and not too soggy.

"You still want the bread?" She laughed quietly.

"Maybe not" he found himself with a small smile on his face.

The silence they fell into was nice, it was comforting in a sense.

He slid into a chair off to the side that they kept for waiting customers.

"Still waiting for more customers?" He raised a brow.

She shook her head no.

"So what are you waiting for?" He inquired.

"Just a few friends need to pop by before I get going on the sweets."

"You've got company coming? Should I leave?" The way that Thomas was acting right now was very out of character. He never waited around this long with one person; he never considered anyone else's feelings that weren't family, least of all a stranger.

Before anymore conversation could ensue, the bell on the front door of the bakery chimed.

The pitter-patter of a few pairs of small feet filled the air as a group of small children ran in.

They were dressed in uncomfortable fabrics, and tattered trousers and skirts. One of the slightly older kids was carrying a baby or toddler that was wearing what looked to be a potato sack.

Thomas was even more confused. He didn't like being confused. He needed to know everything and right now, he had nothing.

Assuming they were her children, his curiosity stemmed out. He was even more confused when they all shouted choruses of 'evenin' Miss!' And 'it's yucky out there Miss Dotty-Anne!'

She only smiled at their greetings and gestured to the table next to her that had piles of produce and baked goods on them, "you kids must be starving! You're lucky that today was slow, I still have some Pookies left!"

Pookies? The fuck were they? Who are these children? Why is she giving them food?

Thomas' head was spinning.

The kids immediately dove for the table, she smiled at their antics and told them to slow down.

She only seemed to snap out of her dazed smile when she heard shuffling on the other side of the room.

She looked over the rude man and he was pulling a cigarette out.

"Oi! No smoking in the bakery! Ms. P would kill me if she found out!"

Her abrupt statement stopped the children's feasting, they turned their heads to the man in the corner, who they did not notice before.

They gasped when they saw who it was.

"You're- you're" one of the children started, stammering in fear.

"You're not smoking in this building is what you are." Dorothy squinted at him, he sighed and put the cigarette away, deciding best not to argue.

She turned back to the children who were trembling in fear. 'Poor kids. They were terrified of any men they came into contact with, fearing they are like their fathers.' She sighed at the thought.

"Now don't you worry about him." She smiled. "By the looks of it, you've filled yourselves up, I'll go get a bag for you all so you can have something for the next few days."

She rushed out of the room, leaving the kids with the Shelby man.

The children stood stock still, not moving an inch. They weren't scared of men, they were scared of him. Everyone knew the Shelbys, and he was just sitting there, in Miss Dorothy's bakery - the most sweetest woman in Birmingham's bakery.

The Shelby man simply put his fingers to his lips and winked at the kids, "don't tell her I already smoked one" he whispered.

The silence was tense until one of the younger kids burst into a fit of giggles, quickly followed by the rest.

When Dorothy returned with a brown paper bag in hand, she too giggled herself. Not knowing what they were laughing at, but she was happy that they were happy.

"What's so funny? Huh?" She playfully put her hands on her hips, eyebrow raised at the kids in front of her.

"Oh no, nothing at all, ignore them" the low voice of the rude man came from the corner.

She simply shook her head and smiled before taking the left overs and shovelling them into the bag. She put the bag in one of the kids hands who hugged it to their chest like a lifeline.

Dorothy gasped and put a finger up, tapping herself on the head, "I almost forgot!"

She rushed out of the room again, returning with a glass full of warm milk.

She took the baby in the sack that was far too big for its body and cradled it in her arms, she smiled sheepishly at the older children, "I don't have a bottle, but this is the best I can do. Tammy needs to eat and I'll be damned if she doesn't eat today." The kids all crowded around her as she tried her best to feed the baby with a glass, most of it spilling around the baby's mouth but after a while it seemed the baby understood and started accepting the milk.

The gesture was beautiful, it was truly heartwarming to anyone who could see it. Thomas found himself gaping at the woman in front of him.

He was so confused.

After a few minutes she handed the baby back the the eldest child and she sent them on their way, "be careful now! Find somewhere warm and stay safe, I'll see you next week! Keep Tammy safe!" She waves as the children toddled out of the door.

The room was silent as she smiled at the fleeing children in the rain.

"What the fuck just happened?"

——

I hope you've enjoyed the chapters I've released so far! Soon we can start delving into the larger plot lines other than Tommy pining over Dorothy, but you didn't hear that from me.

Thanks for the love

Feedback and comments are wanted.

See ya next time!

MUSIC MEME - 7 ALBUMS - [4/7]

“ART IS THE WEAPON AGAINST LIFE AS A SYMPTOM.”

Gun Metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)- Chapter 8

Some secrets are better left surprises.

Masterlist

The ocean does not apologise for its depth and the mountains do not seek forgiveness for the space they take and so, neither shall I.

The moment between the two individuals was quickly interrupted by the slamming open of the Garrison doors.

Thomas, after hearing the no so quiet chatter, knew who had just entered.

Dorothy strained her head around Thomas' shoulder and saw men with peaked caps.

It was the Peaky Blinders.

Dorothy felt her knees shake as they made their way into the pub.

Thomas quickly decided that these idiots were not going to ruin his companionship with the curious woman before he could finally work her out.

Seeing her fear of the men sent a small pang to his heart. Those were his men. They were supposed to be frightening. So why did her reaction only hurt now?

Quickly grabbing her arm and rushing to the back room before any of the men could start a conversation, he muttered, "let's get you your drink then, eh?"

Dorothy didn't make a move, her eyes fixated on the blinders so Thomas tugged on her arm and dragged her to the cellars down the stairs.

Thomas unknowingly smirked a little when he remembered their evening when she dragged him out of the bakery and into the pouring rain.

——

Dorothy was scanning the bottles around the cellar, taking each one out individually and scanning the tags and ingredients for the perfect one.

"I thought you don't drink?" Thomas asked, trying to make conversation. Very out of character.

"I don't" she muttered some of the ingredients out loud as she read them, "but some of Ms. P's bread has rum and brandy in them. You need the perfect one for the best taste..." she trailed off again.

"ai fi crezut că vorbesc cu un zid de cărămidă" Thomas muttered to himself.

"oh fi liniștit! sunt aproape terminat." Dorothy bit back.

Thomas let out a slightly animalistic noise when Bonny answered back in his mother tongue.

After composing himself, he cleared his throat, "you speak Romani?" He chuckled to himself. "Of course she does."

"My father taught it to me. Said it was important for 'is lil' gewl to know 'er roots" she laughed at her impression of him.

"So you come from a gypsy family, eh?" Thomas felt like this may be one of his only chances to ask her more questions as she's distracted now.

"I'll assume you do too?" Her eyebrows furrowed when she read the brandy bottle in front of her.

"What clan did he travel in?" Thomas asked carefully, this hopefully being his key to working out who Bonny is.

"What's with all the questions, Bubs?" She raised a brow, still examining the lacquered paper.

"Damn. Caught." Thomas only sighed.

Dorothy gasped when she found the perfect bottle, she shoved it into her bag while pulling out a few coins.

"Don't worry about pay." Thomas mentioned.

Dorothy scrunched her nose up, "but I have to pay, that's how this stuff works..."

"I'll just put it on the bill" Thomas shrugged.

"No, Bubs, you can't pay for this. It's under the bakery's money anyway."

Thomas only shrugged again, putting an end to the discussion. Dorothy only huffed and slipped one of the coins in his waistcoat pocket. That being her only compromise to the deal.

Thomas only grinned at her.

"So why can't I know your name?" Thomas hesitantly cautioned, hopefully getting the result he wanted.

"Why can't I know yours?" She bit back

"What's your name, Bonny?"

"What's yours?"

A sense of deja vu passed over the two as they remembered that they've had this same conversation three times now.

"Besides, Bonny and Bubs seems perfectly fine for now. We've become fast friends, Bubs, even though you held a gun to my face the first time we met."

Thomas missed half of that conversation when she mentioned the part of them being friends.

Thomas' voice got stuck in his throat at just the thought of being friends. Despite how sad it all was, Thomas revelled in her statement.

He cleared his throat, registering all the other things she'd said, "I should probably apologise for the gun thing..."

Thomas' train of thoughts was stopped by the slamming open of the cellar door.

Maybe it was a good thing he was distracted, what was he thinking? Apologising? Very un-Shelby like.

There, at the top of the stairs was Grace, rushing down, "Thomas I need to tell you something!"

Thomas sighed. Poker face back on. He said nothing.

"Uhm. I should go. Ms. P is probably waiting for me..." His Bonny scuttled off before he could stop her.

Grace only glared at the girl until she rounded the corner, out of the back way of the Garrison as to avoid the very prevalent Peaky Blinders in the hub of the Garrison.

"What do you need, Grace?" Thomas pinched his nose.

Now the day has properly begun.

——

Ahhh this chapter is very short, sorry!

It's still very important for the sake of friendship enrichment and all that!

"ai fi crezut că vorbesc cu un zid de cărămidă" = you would have thought I was talking to a brick wall.

"oh fi liniștit! sunt aproape terminat"

= oh be quiet. I'm almost done.

Thanks for the love.

Feedback and comments are welcome.

See ya next time!