At Your Service [Tommy Shelby]

Glass House - Part 2

He's staring at her, with his hands spread out on his desk, getting carried away by his own anger. Of course he's not angry at her, she did nothing wrong. The little kitten is just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Usually a master of discarding emotions, now he's overthrown by it. The bucket was to spill for a long time now and every fucking cell of his body is screaming, that there's no turning back. It's never sadness that peaks its head around the corner, sadness turns into anger. Because anger is the emotion he knows so well. It is the heart of most of his work. He slams his hands on his desk, "EY?"

Against all his expectations she stood steady, still looking him straight in the eyes. There's no backing down. She's seen it before, she's been close to it. Her brother left as the calmest person she'd known, he'd come back from the war angry at everything. She never blamed him. Even when he had struck her, she never blamed him. She saw that change in his eyes when he realized what he did. It was the first time he had cried in her arms after the war. So now, she won't back down, she won't blame Tommy. That unjustified anger always comes so sudden, sometimes you don't even notice it building up. Just like now, he seemed okay a second ago. And now, he is standing in front of her with fire in his eyes. Not because of her, but because of this whole fucking situation. His safe heaven destroyed by the woman he swore to love.

With a sharp edge in her tone she starts to speak: "Thomas. I don't want compensation. I won't tell a soul. And I don't need anything from you, okay?" He slams down again, looking down, defeated, conflicted, a roary "Fuck" leaves his throat. Meanwhile Vivian made her way as careful as she could around his desk, now standing next to him. "Thomas" she nearly whispers.

"Get out, Vivian." He hoarsely said. He didn't want her to leave, but somehow his mind got overtaken with an anxiety inducing feeling. What if he can't control himself? Usually when he feels the edge of his own insanity he grabs for the bottle or the little blue shell filled with the finest opium. Now neither is there, and it has been a while since he had come eye to eye with his demons, his feelings. And now that the one person who has begun stripping his walls down is standing next to him, he's scared he'll say something that he'll regret.

He feels a soft hand on his shoulder, "Thomas." With a harsh movement he slaps her hand away. "Get out." But she's not going anywhere. He turns to her pointing his finger to the door, shouting "Out!" Only now does she sense the alcohol smell coming from  him. 'Never let alcohol get close to a fire already running wild', she thought to herself. She knows he drinks, quite a lot, but never could she smell it this clear.

Vivian saw a small opportunity presenting itself in front of her own eyes and she took it. While he was turned to her she stepped forward and embraced him as fully as she could. As if she was putting a blanket over a fire. And somehow she did.

She has expected there to be some resistance, but he just stood still. His eyes big with confusion, conflicting feelings fighting each other behind his forehead. He slowly lowers his pointed arm, not yet embracing her as well. But he felt that fire weaken, smoldering. Somehow this intriguing woman could change his anger into sadness in the blink of an eye. He should have never been angry to begin with. As fast as the mix of alcohol and anger clouded his mind, just as fast he began to think straight again. It took a couple of seconds but now he puts his arms around her as well, around the arch of her back. Almost too scared to touch, delicately placed as not to smudge the work of art he's lucky enough to hold.

She slowly puts her hand on the back of his head, it stirred something up in him. 'Cause the next thing he fell was a tear rolling down his cheek. The slow but sure strokes along his collar nearly gave him goosebumps. They have never been this close, have they? She could feel the tenderness with which Thomas was holding her, almost scared that she'd disapprove. She took a chance and it seemed to be the exact right call. "I'm sorry." she heard him whisper. "It's okay.. it's okay." she consoles him. His head now buried in her shoulder and his hand in her hair. His eyes first big with confusion, now closed tightly as to not let the moment go.

He wonders if this is even real. Grace could put out his fires, she always did. He hasn't found anyone since. Granted, his fires got a lot more wild and a lot bigger. Yet she, Vivian, swoops in, and blows him off his feet. He doesn't want to show emotion, he wants to be strong. Yet those tears are real, and he can't stop them from coming it seems. He won't let himself wail, even though his soul is screaming for it. He won't. Because perhaps if he will, there is no turning back. It's like opening pandora's fucking box. And it terrifies him more than anything. She slowly strokes his back, feeling a tear drop on her shoulders. They stood there for a while, their bodies intertwined.

When they hear footsteps in the hall they both immediately let go, as if it was the biggest sin they just shared. He wiped his face and instinctively grabbed for another cigarette. Thoughts racing around their heads as to what would happen if they were discovered like that. Around the corner walk Francis and Cathy, guessing the coast would be clear by now, eyeing the room with bewilderment. Vivian already started clearing up the room as to tell the two that is what she had been doing there all along.

"Oh.. Mister Shelby.. we'll get this sorted right away." Francis comments.  Tommy scrapes his throat, "No worries Francis, get it sorted tomorrow. We all deserve some sleep, don't we?" The maids look at each other more confused as ever. As he walks around them he quickly thanks Vivian for her 'cleaning'. Not even sharing a look anymore. He grabs his coat from the floor and leaves the room. Leaving the three maids in awkward silence.