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FLORENCE PAGE SAT IN THE COMFORT OF THE GARRISON, as she waited for Tommy Shelby, with her favorite Montblanc pen and notepad, whilst sipping on Scottish Whiskey, with the recommendation of Harry the bartender, of course. As he wiped tables, preparing for the ruckus that would soon come from the working men while they had their evening drinks, Florence attempted to write whatever was on her mind — her only method to writing poetry. The bartender didn't mind this, despite rarely having any customers during the day, he found the girl's presence quite peaceful, which was quite the contrast to his other customers that were to come in a few hours.
She tapped the butt end of her pen onto her notepad repeatedly, sighing at the lack of words coming to mind. It had been awhile since Florence had took it upon herself to write, saying that she never really had any inspiration. However, there wasn't exactly much to do in Small Heath as she waited for her new–found acquaintance, especially for a woman like her.
"So, how's ya' trip been? Pleasant?" Harry asked as he proceeded to clean the glasses.
"Well," Florence glanced at her watch, "it is currently four in the afternoon, and I am sitting alone in an empty pub, writing all my sorrows down on my notepad, waiting for Tommy Shelby to come, my only company being a bartender." He chuckled at Florence and jokingly rolled his eyes. "I'm only kidding. I think you're great company, Harry. Besides, I chose Small Heath for a reason. I want to not do nothing. It's time I took a break."
"I should do that sometime." Harry pondered.
"You really should." the girl shrugged. "Come to London sometime. You can bring your wife with you. I have friends that could welcome you, help you settle for a bit."
"I'll think about it." Harry nodded as he starts mopping the floors. The two continued with their silent rhythm, Florence humming every once in a while as she wrote anything that brought a spark of inspiration.
"I'm here about the job as a barmaid." Florence turned in her seat to see a woman with a green leather coat and a matching ankle–length skirt. The style wasn't exactly her taste, however she stayed silent and smiled at the blonde woman.
"Are you mad?" He asked, causing both her and Florence to frown.
"Am I what?"
"Do you know about this place?" Harry asked once more.
"I saw it in an advertisement." The blonde walked closer to Harry, slightly smiling at Florence, who returned it.
