"Look, chin up, dear. It won't bode well for you to be looking at Tommy the wrong way." Polly's curt voice carries you from your reverie, where you are most certainly scowling. The scowl drops when you're caught, however. Rumour has it that Thomas Shelby shot a man between the eyes because he cocked his bloody eyes at the gangster. For no reason.

Not that you really believe the rumour, but that's what they say. You aren't certain what you are meant to believe, only that Thomas is a man not to be dealt with. He deals with you. Not the other way around. Though, some people are bold enough to try. Like you, this arrangement is meant to be one of convenience. You improve his social standing even more, and you don't have to bear any children for him. You can be a married lady and be free, protected by the Shelby name.

Unless he says differently, that is.

"Now, don't go berating my fuckin' bride so soon, Polly. She's not even part of the family, yet," comes Thomas' smooth-as-whisky drawl. Behind the large door to his office, stands your potential husband, a rolled up cigarette stacked between his fingers as he gazes out of the window.