ALIVE- Arthur Shelby

New Beginnings OO5

She had not worked much with Harry before, mostly filling in for him during emergencies. But he seemed to quickly warm up to her. Truth be told, he had to. The Garrison undeniably needed another pair of hands on deck. Harry had been friendly, admittedly stuck in his own ways, but he showed her the ropes patiently.
While she already had some basic knowledge, he took the time to familiarize her with the finer details of the trade - where to find various supplies, and the intricacies of organizing tabs. At first, it had been hard to follow Harry's instructions. She had always been used to taking directions only from James, her husband, and listening to someone else felt unfamiliar. However, she adapted quickly, realizing the necessity of learning Harry's methods even when she didn't necessarily agree with them. Proving herself to be the asset Thomas had expected her to be.

His faith in her had kept her going through it all in the last couple of days. The energy of having a woman in a spot usually occupied by men brought about a mix of reactions among the patrons. Those who had seen her work before were mild enough; some even brightened up when speaking to her. Most were alright with some feminine energy. However, some patrons had a harder time adjusting, and hard glances, exchanged whispers, and occasional disapproving expressions were not uncommon. Yet, despite their reservations, none of them dared to openly question or challenge Thomas Shelby's decision. And she was glad. She didn't know if she had the patience or temper to deal with that.

She had not seen Thomas since she'd been hired. The other brothers she had seen come and go.
Today was no different. John Shelby had stormed in, right as she was starting to wipe the bar. His presence overwhelmed her for a second; she froze as he made his demand, but quickly rushed to prepare his drink. All the brothers drank the same thing. Just whiskey. She grabbed the special bottle from underneath the bar like Harry had told her to. John didn't acknowledge her as he slammed down his drink with an air of impatience. He quickly disappeared into the private room, only to reemerge shortly after. She was curious, to say the least. Whatever business could be so urgent? She observed him as he walked through the bar, making way for the exit without a word.

Her relationship with Thomas Shelby had been pretty cordial over the years, but she knew better than to assume familiarity with the entire family. John remained a mystery, and she had never spoken to him much. As for Arthur Shelby, he had been friendly enough, though his unpredictability left her cautious.

"So, when they're working, it's an 'only speak when spoken to' deal?" she asked Harry with a chuckle. A small grin crept across Harry's face, revealing a touch of amusement. "You'll get used to it," he assured her.

"I am sure I will," she replied, reaching for the special bottle from the counter to put it back in its place. It stood next to another couple of bottles and the gun Harry had stashed there for emergencies. Her eyes briefly glanced at a small grey vault nearby, its top cleaned and dusted, but its dial covered in a layer of grey. She had not yet asked what was in there, but she knew it was nothing innocent.

As she popped her head back up, a familiar man stood before the bar. His eyes were wide and strained, and there was a hint of dampness to his skin. His hand angrily gripped the edge of the counter. "Seen my brother?" Arthur asked urgently. Penelope looked at Harry, who nodded in confirmation. "Yeah, you just missed him, got a drink, went into the back, and disappeared again," she explained quickly, sensing his agitation. Arthur's tense expression gradually eased as he absorbed the information. He let out a sigh, releasing his grip on the counter and running a hand through his sweaty hair. "Right then," Arthur muttered, his tone more composed now. "Might as well have a drink while I'm here. He'll be back." He cast a fleeting glance at Penelope. Harry had already retrieved the bottle again and put it next to her on the bar. She made sure she poured him a little more than usual and slid the glass toward him. He took a swig before he propped a cigarette between his lips, patting his coat pockets for a lighter or matches.

"Here, Arthur," Penelope said gently, sliding her husband's lighter across the bar once again. "Use this."
Arthur glanced at the lighter, and sniffled, as recognition flickered in his eyes.

'Ah, you remember.' She was surprised, the last time they spoke, he was off his wits.
'Yes.' Arthur ran his fingers over the smooth surface of the lighter, lost in thought.
"Last time I'll use it," he promised wearily. Penelope smiled understandingly, grateful for the sentiment. "I'll go make sure we get some more matches for you behind the bar," she said, ''Just in case.''

"You know, lass, you're a good fit here at The Garrison," he remarked with a gruff voice, his eyes narrowing in a rare display of approval. "Good on Tommy for bringing you in." He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke that hung in the air around them. He smirked at her and coughed slightly. Penelope found herself absorbed in the scene before her. Arthur hadn't changed much over the years, she noted. He still carried himself with that same raw intensity and devilry that had become his trademark. It evoked memories of simpler times when life felt a little less complicated.

" You know... Tommy used to talk about James all the time before France," he murmured, somehow picking up on her sentiments as he continued to look at her.
"We all used to talk," Penelope agreed sadly, remembering how they used to get along before the war. She had seen how they'd drink and laugh together, ran around with little care. They undoubtedly held many stories she hadn't heard before. "Not just your brother. No one does anymore. " Her voice carried a tinge of longing, reminiscing about the days when memories of their fallen comrades were still shared freely. There was an unspoken rule amongst all men that had changed that. There were new problems the country was facing, she knew that. But she still missed James every day.

Penelope took a deep breath, readying herself to steer the conversation in a different direction. "It's good to see you in a better state today, Arthur," she remarked, a careful glint in her eyes. Arthur chuckled, motioning for her to refill his glass again.
"Better state? You mean not covered in blood?" he quipped, raising an eyebrow. Penelope grinned, pouring more whiskey into his glass. "Exactly. And also intelligible and upright," she teased, wondering if he would take offense. But Arthur, settled on a smirk, taking a sip from his glass. "Ah, but I remember you being able to understand me just fine."

"To be fair, Arthur, it did take some focus," Penelope admitted with a laugh. "It's one of my many talents that Thomas and Harry hired me for."
"And you know how to pour a man a mean glass of whiskey," he replied, raising his glass in a toast.
"Only for the Shelbys," she admitted with a wink, "I go easy on the rest of 'em."
"Good gal," he laughed, his amusement strangely comforting.

On the other side of the bar, Harry motioned for her to focus on the rest of the patrons. Penelope nodded, acknowledging his signal, and gracefully moved away from the eldest brother. She took hold of the bucket and pitcher that Harry had thoughtfully prepared for her, and with practiced ease, she began her round through the lively Garrison. Navigating through the crowded space, Penelope skillfully served drinks, engaged in light banter, and made sure everyone was well taken care of. The atmosphere was filled with the usual buzz, chatter, and the clinking of glasses. It was a scene she had grown accustomed to these past few days.
Just then, the front door swung open behind her, drawing her attention. Penelope turned around, a pitcher in hand, her gaze locking onto the figures of Thomas and John as they stepped into the establishment. The room's energy momentarily shifted as all eyes turned to the brothers, the volume of the lively chatter naturally dipping for a fleeting second.

''Penelope, fetch us some beer and a deck of cards, please,'' Thomas called out from the entrance. Responding promptly, Penelope swiftly completed pouring a round of drinks for a nearby table before hurrying back to her station behind the bar.