METHOD OF BEDLAM ━ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 ²

𝐢𝐢. 𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 ; find our way back

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ii. eleven : ❝ find our way back ❞

𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠: about you - the 1975

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Somewhere in London

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A half hour that dragged on passed, and Thomas walked out of the room with a hard expression on his face. His cold eyes instantly searched for the gypsy strawberry blonde as if it were a chore, and once his gaze settled on her irked form next to a wooden barrel, relief settled on his chest.

After a painfully long half-hour, Thomas finally left the room while sporting a grave expression on his visage. As though it were a secret mission, his cold eyes sought out the gypsy strawberry blonde, and once his focus landed on her irked form next to a wooden barrel, comfort settled on his chest.

He muttered hesitantly, "Mari."

"Tommy." Mar said, looking up from her lace-up boots and getting to her feet to see if the man was hurt. "Your nose is bleeding again."

The woman reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a cloth, soaking it for the man; however, Thomas only grabbed her wrist and stopped her.

"He wants to talk to you." His grip on Mar's wrist grew tighter. "Alone."

Marianna shuddered with trepidation, and the sound reverbed the confines of the space. Anxious thoughts lined her mind, exacerbated by the jittery fear in the pit of her stomach.

She choked back her anxiety, saying, "Okay. I better not keep him waiting."

Mar took a step, but Thomas drew her in and said quietly, "If he attempts something you don't agree with, just yell for me."

"I'll be fine." She said, mostly to herself. In actuality, she is panicking. Unsettled by the place and the milieu of their state. What does he need from her? What would he make her do? She understands Alfie's power—once within his bakery, it's one thing to strike a deal and quite another to be turned down for one. She had been aware of Solomons' offer of a deal or death.

She takes a deep breath to settle her thoughts and nerves before reentering the office. Mar believes in the peace of her spirits; if they were at ease, then everything would be alright, she hoped.

The man's ominous eyes followed her every move as she entered the space. Alfie Solomon's expression, she noted, was similar to Thomas's as he left. There is still an air of unresolved tension.

Alfie motioned to the woman from his chair, "Take a seat, sweetheart."

She complied, taking the seat that had once belonged to her lover, and channelling all of her pompousness, self-confidence, and ferocity.