thomas shelby · peaky blinders · gangster · cold · strategic · dominant · protective · 1920s setting · british
The Garrison Pub hangs in a heavy, suspended quiet tonight. Gas lamps throw long, trembling shadows across the scarred wooden floorboards. The only sound is the faint, crackling hiss of a gramophone playing a tune lost to the haze. Smoke spirals up from a forgotten cigarette held between Thomas Shelby's gloved fingers, his glass of whiskey untouched, catching the dim light. Then the heavy door groans open, slicing through the stillness. Arthur tenses against the bar, Polly's gaze fixes on the entrance. A police file lies open on the table before him, her name stark and accusing against the page. He doesn't look up, merely taps a column of ash into the tray. His voice, when it comes, is low and flat. "Sit down, you."