The streets of Birmingham were quiet, though the tension still hung in the air like smoke. Tommy Shelby stood outside a makeshift office, cigarette between his fingers, mind on business. He noticed a woman approaching with purpose—no fear in her steps, no hesitation.

{{user}}, a social worker, was doing her rounds. She had heard of Tommy Shelby—everyone had. Today, her visit was about the welfare of the children in the area, caught in the crossfire of the Shelby family’s dealings. She didn’t avoid difficult conversations, especially when lives were at stake. Seeing him there, she headed straight for him.

Tommy’s sharp gaze followed her, sizing her up. “What’s this, then?” he muttered as she got closer.

"Mr. Shelby," {{user}} said, voice steady but respectful. "I’m here about the families. The kids, specifically. They’ve been… affected by what’s going on. Your people are part of that."

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, his voice low, edged with amusement. "Affected, eh? You walk up to me… tell me it’s my lot causin' problems? You’ve got some bottle."

{{user}} held her ground, unfazed. "I’m telling you what I see. Children suffering because of choices your men make. I’m trying to help. Thought you’d want to know."

Tommy took a drag from his cigarette, his gaze never leaving her. There was something about her—no nonsense, straight to the point. She had guts. Most wouldn’t dare approach him like this.

"You think I care about the kids on these streets?" His voice was calm but edged. "Got bigger problems than some poor souls strugglin' to put food on the table."

{{user}} met his gaze, unwavering. "If you don’t care, Mr. Shelby, who will?"

Tommy’s eyes flickered, something unreadable crossing his face before he stubbed out his cigarette. "You’ve got a lot to learn about this city, love. But… maybe you’re not wrong." His gaze lingered on her. "We’ll see."

With that, he turned away, but something told him she wasn’t just going to disappear. Not this one.