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THOMAS Shelby sat at his desk, in the betting den, alone. His lips were twisted into a frown as the events of the night prior played on his mind like a broken record. More specifically, that pained expression in Katherine's eyes that only he seemed to notice when Tommy stupidly admitted in the stupidest way possible that he was taking Grace to the races, as opposed to his brunette best friend he was arguing with. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Katherine with the news, and telling her whilst in a rage was not the way forward.
A glass of whiskey settled in his calloused, right hand, the dull gold coloured liquid swirling around its glass cage as Tommy, with his icy blue eyes focused on that, frowned at it still. Even if anyone were to enter the betting den at that moment, he was sure that he wouldn't notice. Out of the corner of his eye, as his left hand rested against his temple, he caught sight of his peaky cap, with the glimmering silver in the crease, lying idly on the edge of the table. Katherine always had hated those caps with such a distaste. . .
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HER nose scrunched up, creasing at the sides, whilst her dark, doe eyes scanned over the cap — the Peaky cap — that sat on top of his head. It's dull grey colour, mixed with the occasional glint of the silver blades that hid themselves, buried within the crease of the cap, make Katherine Jordan pull the face of disgust. A younger Thomas Shelby couldn't help but smile softly at the way she pulled that face — her eyebrows sank and furrowed together, creasing her forehead slightly. She inhaled sharply, studying the cap, before bringing her eyes downward, meeting his icy blue pair.
"I don't like it." She boldly admitted, deadpanning with a blunt expression written across her face and laced within her tone. Her tone made Tommy chuckle softly to her — If there was one thing that he could always count on his best friend for, it was her, at times brutal, honesty. She said it how it was, and she didn't care if it offended anyone. Everyone needed a dose of the truth every now and then, and Katherine was always the one to give it to them. Tommy pushed a piece of dark hair from her eyes. Katherine giggled, softly.
"Sorry, Kat. . . I'm a Blinder now. We've all got to wear one." He said with a shrug, hand resting on her upper arm. Katherine once again scrunched her nose up at it, and fired him another unimpressed look. Tommy's smile widened. Katherine smiled — she loved it when he actually smiled.
"I don't care if you're the fucking King, Tommy, and I certainly don't care if you're a Blinder, or not. I hate the caps." She spoke with such a bitter distain in her tone that Tommy's smile seemed to falter slightly, and fade a little. The petite brunette rolled up onto the balls of her feet and reached up to take ahold of the cap, picking it up off of Tommy's head and holding it within her dainty hands. She looked down at it, and inhaled, deeply and slowly. Her brown eyes studied it. She then said, "Promise me something?"
