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THE smoke filled betting den was nothing short of familiar to Katherine Jordan. The petite, brunette young woman had grown up in the place, alongside her two older brothers and her older sister, and the Shelby family, too, who had — along with the help of her family — build their little betting empire right in front of Katherine's very eyes. Ever since she was a little girl, Katherine Jordan had walked the length of the betting den, the feeling of power coursing through her veins as she did so. The betting den gave the brunette that — the feeling of sheer power.
She ran one hand, her right hand, through her dark hair, her eye twitching, wincing, as her slim, pale fingers pulled through little knots that had buried themselves amongst her brunette locks since she had combed her hairbrush through them that very morning — probably from the wind that had blown her hair all about as she made her way toward the betting den that morning. In her left hand, however, was a cigarette, which she would occasionally bring up to her lips and take a drag of, before she would exhale the grey smoke from the parting between her lips.
Loud shouting filled her ears, echoing about the small building, as she leant against one of the cold, brick walls of the den. The shouting was coming from two people — two men — one of which being her older brother, Edward Jordan (or, Eddie, as everyone knew him as), the third eldest of the Jordan clan, and his best friend, John Shelby, who was like another brother figure to Katherine. Their shouting was indistinct and hard to make out, but Katherine knew that it was something to do with the bets on the horses that were coming in by the dozen.
Suddenly, the doors to the betting den that separated the den from the Shelby family's home of Watery Lane (and kept little Finn Shelby out) swung open, slamming against the wall either side of them, and in came a figure that Katherine instantly took notice of, one she knew all too well. Her dark, deep brown eyes quickly, swiftly, met the cold, icy blue eyes of none other than Thomas Shelby — her best friend. A smirk graced her lips, as he made his way toward her, hands in the pockets of his suit jacket. She cocked an arched eyebrow upwards.
"Arthur's mad as hell. . ." Katherine sang, as he sent her a nod and began to walk past her. Thomas stopped, his side brushing hers, as she crossed her arms over her chest, leaving enough give and room to take a drag of her cigarette. Thomas then turned his head to look at his best friend, who was staring up at him through both her fringe and her thick, eyelashes. His bright, piercing blue eyes met hers, and they seemed to soften so slightly at the sight of his best friend, but Katherine said nothing on the topic. Thomas nodded once.
"I know." He replied to her, blunt as ever. Katherine rolled her eyes instantly — sometimes he really was bloody impossible and she could never get her head around it. She lifted her hand up to her lips, the cigarette only mere millimetres away from her slightly chapped lips, before it was cruelly taken away from her, plucked from her hands easily by Thomas, who then placed it in between his own lips, effortlessly. Katherine scoffed at this, her eyebrows drawing together as she sent him a glare, one which Thomas only smirked lightly at. He then began to walk away.
