𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅

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☾𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅

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𝑇𝑊𝐸𝑁𝑇𝑌 𝐹𝑂𝑈𝑅

The car squealed as Anna stepped into the road, her feet spinning as she was yanked back by Michael's outreached hand. She glanced to him dazed, eyes dripping with fatigue. For the past week, Anna hadn't been able to sleep. The stress of meeting Tommy had been too much to handle, given all she'd heard about her formidable cousin.

Michael sighed- it had been like that since they'd gotten out of the car to walk only three streets over. But Anna wasn't used to the dangerous hustle and bustle of the city, and now it was on show.

London was far too busy and polluted and packed to ever be enjoyable, Anna thought.

The sky was grey, as in any city she'd been in, and covered by a constant black cloud, which she dreaded to think would spill at any moment. It didn't help that it was November, the iciest of months but without the impending excitement of Christmas to distract.The last thing they needed was rain.

For the rest of the walk there, Anna couldn't concentrate on the dull scenery. All she could think of was Thomas Shelby and whatever he could say.

For the rest of the walk there, Michael couldn't concentrate on anything but his sister beside him. It was clear that she was nervous, even if she didn't say anything- refused to say anything in fact.

The large building looked dauntingly in front of them as Anna and Michael stopped at the doorways, glancing around at the decadent gold decorations inside. Her brother nudged his head forward, beckoning her in as they pushed through the heavy doors, slipping quickly up the wide, red carpeted stairs that lead to a restaurant of sorts.

"Morning, Mr Shelby," someone greeted him as the reached the top.

"Have you seen Tommy?"

"On the balcony, sir," the man nodded politely.

"Is he alone."

"Yes, arrive five minutes ago."

"Thank you."

Michael lead them across the hallway toward the balcony that looked over the lower floor, which was as bustling as the streets outside. The noise level was low, dulled to a low, business-like chatter but the air was thick with a choking smoke.

They were heading straight toward the middle of the thin strip that connected either end of the halls. It was lined only by a few thin legged tables, only a single one of them in use. A single crystal, whiskey glass lay on it, a blunt cigarette beside it.

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