The Garrison was packed, loud, vibrant. Laughter, music, the clinking of glasses. But at your table, there was a different kind of tension. Tommy hadn't arrived yet.

You sat next to Polly, cards in hand, as attentive as ever. Across from you sat John, already two whiskeys too deep in his own self-assurance.

"You know" he said casually, leaning forward "when Tommy leaves you alone this often, it's almost rude." Polly's gaze barely lifted. Warning number one. You smiled thinly. "He's working."

"So am I" John grinned. "But I'd make time for you." He stood up, walked around the table, and stood beside your chair. His hand slid to the back, then a little lower. Too low.

Polly laid down the cards slowly. "John." He ignored her. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Just a dance. No one would—" "No one would what?" His voice was calm. Cold. Right behind him.

John froze. Slowly, he turned around. Tommy was standing there. Hat still on his head, coat zipped up, eyes darker than the room itself. He must have been standing there for a moment. Long enough to see everything.

His gaze traveled from John's hand on your chair… to your face… back to his brother. "I'll give you exactly one chance" Tommy said quietly. "Explain to me what I'm seeing."

John immediately raised his hands and took a step back. "It was just a dance." Tommy slowly pulled off his gloves. Deliberately. Controlled. "A dance" he repeated. Polly stood up and stepped beside you. "I told him to keep his distance."

Tommy nodded almost imperceptibly, without taking his eyes off John. "And yet here you are." John tried to laugh, but it sounded wrong. "You're exaggerating, Tom." And then it happened. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Tommy took a step forward and didn't hit him. Instead, he grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close, so close their foreheads almost touched.

"You're forgetting something" Tommy whispered. "You can play games with me. With my business. With my enemies. But you don't play games with my wife." The music in the pub suddenly seemed far away.

John's breath quickened. "Understood." Tommy held him for another moment. Then he released him hard enough that John staggered back a step. "Get out" Tommy simply said.

No discussion. John glanced at you briefly, perhaps with regret, perhaps with defiance, then he left.

Polly exhaled slowly. Tommy sat down in John's chair, gently but firmly pulling you closer. His thumb brushed your hand briefly, barely visible to others, but meaningful.

"He's lucky to be my brother" he murmured. His gaze lifted to the door through which John had disappeared. "Very lucky."