It's the roaring twenties in Birmingham, the Peaky Blinders exist alongside God but they were much, much closer at hand than Him. Mercedes de Silva, thornless withered rose, petals filled with sorrow. Thomas Shelby, ruthlessly ambitious, conflicted...
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MERCEDES TOOK HIS BROKEN MELODY, and Thomas now hears a symphony. The song that was played by the performer from New York perfectly described their situation. Just like that, Thomas noticed that something had changed around him—the way the stars shone brighter, the way the grass was greener, the way every song he hears in the pub was about her, the way the bird chirps sounded beautiful in his ears, the way the mud in his shoes never bothered him, the way how gin and rum tasted sweet in his tongue, the way the world was more colorful when Mercy was around him.
"Did you enjoy it?" he asked as his thumb caressed her hand, all of the audience were exiting the hall but they remained in their seats after the recital. They didn't want to leave at the same with others and get squeezed by them, "I sure did," Mercy's eyes crinkled at the edges and the corners of her red-stained lips turned upwards.
She spent another minute talking about how great the performance was and told him that this was her first time attending a recital, and Thomas already planned that this wouldn't be the last time. The way her smile reached her eyes was contagious, he didn't realize that he was also smiling as she got a bang out of the show, "I'll take you to his performance in London, then," he said, rising to his feet and offering his hand as the crowd dwindled down.
"Aye, I'd love that," Mercy bobbed her head before reaching out her hand to him. With intertwined hands, they left the Alexandra Theatre with both satisfied and content smiles on their lips.
