ℒᴀᴅy ℬʟɪɴᴅᴇʀ❁(ᴛᴏᴍᴍy ꜱʜᴇʟʙy)

2: ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ yᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴇʙᴛ

꧁𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝟸: 𝚄𝙽𝙳𝙴𝚁 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙳𝙴𝙱𝚃꧂

The shrill ring of the telephone interrupted an otherwise tranquil afternoon.

"Hello?" Roslyn answered, lathered in a residue of soap suds she garnered from her bathtub. How she wished mounting a telephone on her wall was currently possible. Her line of work paved way to her alert nature, if not bothered by paranoia. Missing one round of the phone's ringing was enough to put her at unease, worrying that any missed call could've been an emergency she'd missed knowing about until it was too late.

"Moss gave me your calling credentials." The low timbre of the gypsy gangster was instantly recognizable.

"Ah, Mr. Shelby." Roslyn drawled. It had been some time since she saw him on his wedding day "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Can we meet today?"

Four words she didn't expect to hear this morning. She found herself subconsciously toying with the cloth of her bathrobe "You surprise me, Tom. I thought that was something I was due to ask you."

"There are things I think you should know as well."

She raised her brows"Not something we can talk over the phone with?"

"I'd prefer it take place in person. Besides, I know there are people listening in the lines as we speak."

Roslyn made a noise that sounded like a smile, trying to hide the fact that she was impressed" Where'd you prefer?"

"The Garrison. 5 o' clock. I doubt you'd remember where it is, but Moss knows the way."

"Oh Tommy, you wound me." Roslyn teased half-heartedly "You aren't the only one who hasn't forgotten."

A long pause "Then I'll see you there, then."

"Sure, until later, Thomas."

The line disconnected seconds after. Roslyn sighed as she placed the phone back in place. She hung her bathrobe by the doorknob and dipped her body into the bubbly bath. There was a soothing and comfortable feeling of being in the water. Her older brother Andrew used to joke she was half-mermaid because it would take a lot of scolding in family trips for her to be out of the seaside entirely before she burnt her skin from the scorching sun. The water took her in a state of nothingness, of meditation. All the thoughts that rushed through her flooded away and for a moment she was a woman with no identity, and no obligation to the world around her. Just a spectator in the darkness.

She rose from the tub, the droplets dribbling into the porcelain.

If only that were always the case.

⫷♚⫸

Eyes were on her the moment she stepped foot on the Garrison. And why wouldn't they? She was donning her ebony black uniform like a beacon, a warning sign for all the stragglers and strange men. Her grey eyes scanned the extravagant perimeter, inlaid with pillars of gold, dark wooden counters and plush chairs. It was a far cry from what it had been when she used to spend a night here before the war. She'd acquired the information that somehow Thomas bought the place from poor old Harry, but now it was Arthur Shelby who owned it in name.

Roslyn approached the main counter and ordered some Irish coffee (with an extra on the vodka) and waited until 5'o clock. It was currently 4:45. 15 mins early, just how she preferred it.

"I called you thinking today was your day off." A man rasped, sitting beside her. She didn't have to turn to recognize who it was.

"It was."