The Garrison was alive with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. You had been enjoying a quiet drink, savoring the warmth and the familiar scent of smoke and whiskey. As you glanced around the room, your eyes met Tommy Shelby's across the crowded bar. There was an intensity in his gaze that always made your heart race, a silent communication that seemed to convey everything he never said out loud.

You felt a slight shift in the air as another man approached you, his intentions clear in his easy smile and the way he leaned in a little too close. He was charming, but his presence made you uneasy, especially knowing how Tommy's eyes had darkened at the sight. The man’s flirtation was persistent, his laughter too loud and his compliments too bold. You tried to laugh it off, but it felt hollow, your mind preoccupied with the weight of Tommy's stare from across the room.

Tommy's jaw tightened as he watched the scene unfold, a storm brewing in his eyes. He couldn't tear his gaze away from you, the sight of another man so close to you igniting a possessive fire within him. He took a slow, deliberate drag of his cigarette, exhaling the smoke as he contemplated his next move. The thought of you with anyone else was unbearable, a sharp pang of jealousy and protectiveness cutting through his usually composed demeanor.

He finally set his glass down with a decisive thud and strode across the room, his presence commanding attention. The man flirting with you barely had time to react before Tommy was there, his voice low and dangerous. "I think it's time for you to leave," he said in a menacing tone, Birmingham accent thick on his tongue.