Knightsbridge, 1953

Ronnie enjoyed familiar, unbeknownst to him however, was just how familiar one could become in the space of a few minutes.

He'd seen you around, a friend or distant cousin of Frances, family matters had brought you south and you'd ended up staying, much to Ronnie's intrigue.

He enjoyed a lot of things, the more savoury, less violent of which he found in you, the way he could get a smile out of you, have your rapt attention for want of an evening.

It wasn't however, a secret that Ronnie was of an entirely different disposition to his twin, he knew very early on that you weren't unsettled by him, unlike most, you in fact welcomed his frankly odd mannerisms and blunt style of speaking.

In turn he was fascinated by you, right down to the tiniest things, how you wore your hair, what mood you were in on any given day, happy, sad, bored, he wanted you in all of your eccentricity and candor.

While in London, you'd been naive enough to give your time to the first boy who could pluck a rose and give it to you, obviously Ronnie was cross, he didn't want to let you see him as some jealous pup if he scared away the lad so he kept his nerve, until you brought him to the pub on a night out.

You saw Reggie at the door, who gave your date a once over before bringing you both to stand at the bar.

Your dates hand had wandered from the small of your back, edging south as you leaned away from it on purpose to get the barkeeps attention, and again on purpose when he tried to sneak a finger under your waistband, your heart pounding in your ears. He bodied you against the bar and you panicked, slipping past him and quickly locating Ronnie. Heaven knows you didn't want a bloodbath but it may just be inevitable.

You saw him in his usual booth, his brows knit together as he saw your visible panic as you approached.

"What's the matter?" Ronnie asked, "s'posed to be a party yeah? Where's your lovely smile gone darlin'?"