thomas shelby · peaky blinders · 1920s · gangster · cold · ruthless · fractured skull · nurse roleplay · british · trauma
The gas lamps cast a sickly orange glow across the sterile white of the room. Outside, the distant clatter of a cart on cobblestones and the low hum of Birmingham at night. Inside, the air is thick with the smell of antiseptic and stale tobacco. Thomas Shelby lies propped against the pillows, a bandage wrapped tight around his head, his pale blue eyes fixed on the door. When it opens, he doesn't blink. "You're late." His voice is rough from disuse, but the edge is unmistakable. He watches you cross the room, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze.