Gun metal and Daisies (Thomas Shelby)

"I never called you Bonny, Bonny."

So many people have told me I need to open up
But not a single person understands that every time
I pry my apart my ribcage, releasing all of the butterflies
That have been hiding there for years,
People are too busy swatting them away
To realise what I have done for them.

"What do you mean?", she stared back just as curiously.

"Those kids... the food... the child... you. You. Who are you?" It was a rare occasion when the Thomas Shelby found himself in the unknown. He hated the feeling of being uninformed, it made him feel like he was on the outside of an inside joke that he was the punchline to.

Dorothy only smiled, thinking of the children again, "those kids have no home. Every evening on clear out day, I give them the last of the produce for free as they struggle to find food in other places, doing odd jobs for a quick coin."
She frowned at her words, "the baby, Tammy, poor girl was thrown out when she was only a few months old, left in a box. The children found her and try their best to look after her. We always have milk lying about, this being a bakery and all, so I heat it up a bit and feed her the best I can on days they pop in."

Dorothy had zoned out by this point, she was staring out the window looking into the torrential rain pouring down outside.

"Sounds like it might be bad for business." Thomas raised a brow.

Dorothy only shrugged, "those children need help, I don't care if it's bad for business, I'm not going to throw them out to the dogs or factories. I've known then all now for a year and I'd be heartbroken to hear if anything happened to them."

A tear slipped down her cheek, she made no move to wipe it away, seemingly lost in her own world.

"You're a very kind lady, Miss Bonny." Thomas stated.

Dorothy was startled by his comment, for two reasons:
1) he's never said anything remotely nice to her since they first met - well, 'met' might be a strong word. They were still strangers.
2)Bonny was not her first name, nor her last name.

She furrowed her eyebrows at him. "I'm not Bonny."

Thomas chuckled, "I never called you Bonny, Bonny."

"Yes you did! You did it just then. My name's not Bonny." She stood up, hands on her hips.

"Well what is your name then?" Thomas mused.

"What's yours?"

It was in that moment that the conversation came to a holt. Neither saying anything, just staring challengingly at each other.
They seemed to be doing a lot of this recently.

"Bonny it is then."

Dorothy huffed at his words and sat down again, only to spring back up and head behind the counter to what Thomas assumed was the kitchen.

Thomas found himself following her, leaning against the archway to the entrance.
The furnace was blasting heat out, the crackling of the fire allowing a sense of comfort to wash over Thomas.

The quiet room was all of a sudden filled with the static sound of a gramophone in the corner. A beautiful classical piece played as Dorothy came strolling back around the corner. She jumped slightly when she saw Thomas leaning in the archway. Smiling sheepishly she turned towards a larder off to the side.

"Strauss, eh? Bit old school." Thomas called out from the doorway, now wondering into the kitchen.

"Few years off, it's Offenbach." Dorothy corrected.
Thomas' plan of trying to seem knowledgeable in romantic classical music backfired horribly.