make room (we're taking over here) ━ tommy shelby x male!oc!

16.

Chapter Sixteen:

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Tommy steps into the garrison, the early morning silence enveloping the pub. The absence of patrons leaves only Grace at the front, diligently tending to her cleaning duties behind the counter.

"Good morning, Mr. Shelby," Grace greets softly, her voice carrying a hint of warmth.

Tommy doesn't reciprocate the greeting. Instead, he takes a seat at the nearest table, his gaze fixed on Grace with an unwavering intensity. He bites the inside of his cheek, a surge of annoyance coursing through him as Grace continues to clean the counter, seemingly unaffected by his icy stare.

"You lied to me," Tommy states, his voice cutting through the air with a sharp edge.

Grace's movements falter, resembling a startled rabbit cornered by a hungry predator. She lowers her head, momentarily avoiding Tommy's penetrating gaze, before resuming her task of vigorously scrubbing the countertop with renewed determination.

"You lied to me," Tommy repeats, his frustration mounting as he feels like his words are falling on deaf ears. Unable to bear the silence any longer, he slams his palm forcefully onto the table, the resulting loud noise finally capturing Grace's attention. Her gaze locks with his, and the gravity of the situation becomes palpable.

"You're not a whore," Tommy asserts, his voice laced with anger. "You're not even a barmaid." He clenches his teeth, realising he had fallen into a meticulously set trap. "You work for Scotland Yard, don't you? Under Inspector Campbell's orders."

Rather than offering a direct response, Grace counters with her own question, her voice filled with a hint of defiance. "Did Mr. Nine tell you that?”

Tommy finds himself unable to suppress the absurd laughter that rises from within him. It's incredulous how, no matter how hard he tries, Nine's version of events continues to haunt his own narrative.

Grace's expression contorts into a frown, clearly dissatisfied with Tommy's reaction. "Perhaps I haven't been as forthcoming with you as you would have preferred," she admits,  a hint of remorse in her eyes. "But I am not the sole keeper of secrets here. Mr. Nine has his fair share as well."

"He's a hired gun," Tommy interjects with resignation. If Nine was not being cautious about concealing his true identity, entangling one intricate lie with another, then Tommy would genuinely be concerned for the hitman's life. 

"Is that all you believe him to be?" Grace hesitates for a moment, her words carrying a weight of uncertainty. "Perhaps you should pay a visit to the library," she suggests. "Find a book about the Romanov revolution. You might discover some surprising revelations within those pages.”

Tommy's disappointment reaches new heights as he finds himself thoroughly unimpressed. He refuses to let Grace's attempt to divert the conversation towards Nine sway his determination. He knows he deserves answers, and he intends to get them.

"We're not discussing Nine," Tommy asserts firmly with an air of authority. "We're discussing you."

Grace nods, seemingly accepting his stance. She turns her back to Tommy, resuming her cleaning duties while placing new bottles of alcohol onto the shelves behind the counter. With deliberate movements, she continues, her voice tinged with a mix of resignation and sincerity. "I understand," she says. "However, you should know, unlike Nine, I am not here to harm you."

Tommy's stomach lurches as the weight of her words sinks in. Nine isn't here to kill him. He had asked and sought reassurance from the hitman himself. A nagging voice at the back of his head reminds him that certainty is a luxury he cannot afford, and Grace might be right after all.