𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐇 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐒
❝ They're the French Kissers,
that's what they do.
They will lure you in
and then they'll kill you
with a kiss. ❞
━ in which the leader of the french kissers
...
❝ But he who dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose. ❞
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Camden Town
Thomas Shelby wasn't the only one who could pull off a dramatic entrance, something the workers at the rum distillery in Camden Town learned all too quickly that early morning when the doors to the fake bakery opened and Rose Salvage and Kaya Yende appeared in front of their mesmerized eyes like divine apparitions. None of them had ever thought they'd see the day when two women walked in on that stuffy, noisy place, let alone two women who moved without time for fear, as if such feeling was to slow and unworthy to walk among them.
The unexpected sight of the two ladies inside that dark, sweaty space made the rum run sweeter and the air feel fresher almost immediately, with men stopping their work to whistle and ogle, and Rose and Kaya could have felt fear, had they not long ago taken that word out of their vocabulary, because fear was what men like Thomas Shelby or Alfie Solomons fed upon.
And neither Rose nor Kaya had any intention of keeping their bellies full.
"Miss Salvage, we weren't expecting you," Alfie's assistant declared as he approached her, "what brings you here?"
"Thought I'd buy some more of that delicious bread you bake in here, you know we French love our bread. Get Alfie for me, will you, Ollie?"
"No need, no need," when the bearded man with scars on his face left his office and made his way towards them, the rum turned sour and the air stale again. With his unpredictable behavior and violent outbursts, Alfie Solomons was one of the scariest men Rose had ever met, and yet he came to them with his back curved, as if to make himself smaller. Alfie, like Rose, played on people's underestimations of him, and that's perhaps why she had come to call him a friend, if a man like him even had any.
"I thought he'd be taller," Kaya muttered as she observed him. "And scarier."
"Just give him time," Rose mumbled back, watching in amusement as Alfie strolled by his workers like a prophet through his disciples.
"Alright, if you fuckers have had enough of staring at the ladies, then go back to your fucking work, yeah? Eyes are meant for seeing, not fuckin'," his voice was dragged and drowsy and drenched in an accent that made Rose wish he came with subtitles, or at least instructions. She doubted anyone had ever been able to figure him out, and she prayed for the soul that one day would.
"Ah Rose! I thought that was you, it smelled too much like fucking France in 'ere," he stopped right in front of them, inspecting Rose with his monocle before moving it to Kaya. "The French have a very distinctive smell, wouldn't you agree, love?"
