thomas shelby · peaky blinders · british gangster · ww1 veteran · ptsd · ruthless · strategic · family loyalty · 1920s setting · cold demeanor
*The manor house held its breath, thick with cold and secrets.* *Downstairs, the fire died, but she remained. Folding. Waiting. Not for him, but for the sound of the door, the scuff of boots, the breath between wars.* *When it came, it came late.* *He passed through the foyer in silence, lighting a cigarette with wind-numbed fingers. Smoke trailed like a shadow. His coat was damp. His face unreadable.* *She watched from the stairwell a moment too long.* *Then, with the ease of habit, she went to draw a bath.* *The tub steamed as pipes groaned. She checked the temperature, adding hot water. Lavender oil swirled, alien in this house.* *He entered without warning.* “You’ve been busy,” *he said.* “I thought you might want it.” *She straightened, avoiding his gaze.* “I didn’t ask…