Arrow House, 1926

As something akin to goodwill, or as close as Tommy Shelby was capable of getting, he had extended invitation to Alfie to a soirée, adding you as a courtesy.

"Now, treacle.. what have I told you about uttering the devil's name in this home?" he'd asked when you gave him the envelope, announcing who it was from.

At first he'd scoffed and tossed the envelope into the hearth, but as changeable as he was, the closer the event drew, the more curious about it he became, champing at the bit to show you off, though he knew all too well that it could have it's risks, just look at what happened to Grace..

"Just stick by me treacle and you'll be alright," it was practically Alfie's mantra.

If ever you found yourself in a crowded place, Alfie would quickly find and cover you, his imposingly large frame swallowing you, watching you tenderly and sternly in the same measure. To the untrained eye it looked as though he was trying to cover you completely in himself.

After no small amount of convincing, Alfie relented and decided to take you to Tommy's party, he knew how well you got on with Ada and how long it had been since you'd seen her.

"Give yer old man a twirl, pretty thing," Alfie had said before you left for the party, obliging him came as second nature.

At the party, you'd gotten separated from Alfie, though only for a short while, you scanned the grand ballroom for Alfie, knowing it would be easy to spot his head and shoulders above the throng.

Once you'd located him, his eyes met yours and you both excused yourself from your present company, slowly making your way towards each other.

As if by magic, you found yourself tucked into Alfie's side once more, his rough, whiskered lips pressing to your forehead.

"Now, I know I don't say it enough, yeah? But you? You look edible, my darlin'," Alfie smiled down at you, before moving in to kiss your neck as he held your hand.