a rough town

[ofanotherera]

London is trouble on every corner. Tommy has been shown this, time and again, but all the same, Sabini's men manage to find him on the wrong side of the Camden road, and from there it's all blood and bad fortune, for everyone involved in the little dustup.

Comments

[bleak_midwinter]

It had been nothing. Genuinely, this time- when asked, later, what had happened, Tommy won't be able to answer. He's been careful, lately, not to cross over, and he hadn't been trying to offend anyone. And still, he'd ended up with a gun against his temple, boots in his sides, and then had lost a few bullets and a knife in Sabini's boys.

He shows up at the bakery panting, his hands still dripping with blood, scuffed up and limping. And he looks furious.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie gets word a few minutes later, and comes down with Ollie at his side, while the bakery boys bustle away- someone has already brought him a little cloth, a little water, but Alfie grabs him by the jacket and drags him up, and forward.

"What's this now?"

[bleak_midwinter]

Alfie's presence doesn't mute his fury: in fact, it makes it more concrete, makes him want to plan. He doesn't spare Ollie a glance when he speaks, voice hushed but intense.

"Been too long since he got shown his place, Alfie- if I hadn't stabbed one of them in the thigh My brains would have been on your territory right now."

[ofanotherera]

Alfie takes him like that, by the jacket front, out of the room and up the stairs, dragging him unceremoniously, away from all of the nonsense and business down here.

"Where were you?"

[bleak_midwinter]

Tommy pushes at that hand halfway through, in no mood for Alfie's condescension. His eyes are still flashing when they've made it to the top of the stairs, but he is starting to shake now, the adrenaline and blood loss affecting his body.

"One foot off Camden Road," he bites, working at his tie with one shaking hand. "It's a test for you, Alfie, he's using me to--"

He wants him obliterated in this moment, wants all of Sabini to be level with the ground.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie shoves him through the office door, with both hands, and slams it behind him. No one is going to be foolish enough to enter now, not even Ollie.

"What happened?"

[bleak_midwinter]

He tries not to let Alfie's treatment get to him but it does, it gets him more riled up. He talks while he takes out his handkerchief to stem the blood flow from his forehead, where a nasty cut won't let up.

"I was ten steps off Camden, and they knocked me down- club over the 'ead, gun against my temple," and true enough, there's the imprint of a muzzle on his temple still, "and they laid into me. Four men- all ugly fucking bastards. Before they left, one spat on me and told to tell Alfie Solomons to keep his fucking dogs in check."

It's not the beating he minds- it's the fact that he was seen as Alfie's dog, something that can be used to pressure the man.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie pushes him to sit in the chair, dragging his own handkerchief out and tossing it at him.

"Keep the pressure on it."

And that dealt with, he considers what Tommy is saying. He strokes his fingers over his beard, thumb scratching the corner of his mouth, eyebrows high.

[bleak_midwinter]

He adds the handkerchief to his own, stems the blood with one hand and boots at his split lip with the other. He's afraid that if he opens his mouth something rash will roll out. So he grits his teeth, and shuts up while Alfie thinks. He's got some thinking if his own to do.

[ofanotherera]

"What sort of an account did you make of yourself?"

He wants to know, through his fingers, watching him with narrow eyes.

[bleak_midwinter]

He spits into his own handkerchief, a bloodied gob of spit, and then tucks it into his pocket.

"They knew who I was, Alfie," he says, and now his voice has gone raspy and irritated. "Even if only three'll live to report to Sabini." The man had bled out while the others were beating Tommy, and he'd shot two of the others. Hopefully badly enough that they still won't make it to Sabini.

[ofanotherera]

"Tommy," Alfie says, and leans on the edge of the desk. He reaches out, and grabs the arm of the chair he's sitting on, and drags it in, a sharp skid over the floorboards, so they're a good deal closer, "you're upset. Take a breath, and have a listen to what I'm asking you. There were four- and now there are three? What marks have the others got on 'em?"

[bleak_midwinter]

He drops the handkerchief in shock, at the strength of Alfie's arms, at the fact that he's moving him. He curls both hands around the edge of the desk, and then--

Forces himself to take a breath, and his shoulders slope down. Not too much, because if he does he'll crash, he'll know it, the loss of adrenaline to the system enough to make him go down quick. But just enough to make himself remember.

"One had by by the throat. Stabbed him in the inner thigh- bled out next to us, unnoticed by his mates. One- the smallest, he got a shot through the arm, and another a bullet in his gut. Kicked me gun out of range, then, and me knife was in the first one."

Plus: his hat's gone. He reaches a hand up and rakes it through his hair, as if he'd only just noticed.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie lays his hands on Tommy's shoulders. His palms rest upwards, a strange gesture, resting there, holding him still, maybe pushing his shoulders just a little bit more down.

He doesn't care if the crash is coming. His breathing is steady, is calm.

"Their dog remarks. Did they throw that at you before or after they found out you bit?"

[bleak_midwinter]

It sends a shock of fear through him, like maybe he shouldn't have come to Alfie, maybe he should have steered clear- Alfie could take him easy, right now, would have him down in a second and Tommy would be done.

"After." So they knew Tommy would bring this message.

[ofanotherera]

"Fuck me, Tommy, you scare at all the wrong things."

He says, and takes the handkerchief from him, peeling it delicately back, and clicking his tongue when he catches sight of the cut.

"You look like a fucking rabbit. Breathe, boy."

[bleak_midwinter]

It's not the beatings that scare him, but the thought of being too trusting and ending up with a bullet in his head in Alfie's office is far worse.

He listens, takes a deep breath-- he has to physically hold himself back from cursing, from showing that kind of weakness, but he does hunch over, presses his hands over his (mercifully non-black) eyes.

"Alright," he says through gritted teeth. "Tell me." Whatever Alfie is thinking, he needs to know.

[ofanotherera]

"I'm not going to touch Sabini."

Folding his arms over his chest, and watching him breathe.

"That's work for the Blinders, yeah? You're gonna take a few dozen o' yours, a few of mine, and you're gonna pick a target as you like the look of."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Yes," he says, still fighting to keep his voice down and level. Of course- Christ, like he was going to let this be done without retribution. But-

"They'll do it again, Alfie. To someone else, one of your boys, other- partners." He sits up with a groan, making an expressive gesture. His hands are tacky with blood but he doesn't seem to notice.

[ofanotherera]

"Hey, hey, hey-"

Murmuring, reaching out to take the handkerchief from him, dabbing, and then holding it still while he's still bleeding.

"I know. I know. The only one here who doesn't know the steps is you, Mister Shelby. It's trench warfare, and you went and stood up straight, not knowing any better. Now you've come home, startled that they're shooting at us for lifting our heads up. Y'see? Sabini and me, we each has our next steps to take. This is life. This is London, Shelby, so catch your breath." And here, he takes him firmly by the jaw, and looks him in the eyes. "Hey?"

[bleak_midwinter]

Tommy is a hard man, and he has seen enough- he knows how to defend his own territory, has gone unchallenged in Birmingham for years. He is not a child.

But Alfie takes him by the jaw and blots at his cuts and his voice is a soft calming murmur. He doesn't trust Alfie, but all of it, with the adrenaline crash, makes his eyes go big and hurt before they quickly harden again. The rage from before will return there later, with calculation added to it, but right now this is as close to safe as he gets.

"Next time he'll have no one left to report to him," is all he decides. He won't be made part of this war, not again.

[ofanotherera]

Alfie smiles down at him, because there he is.

He could easily develop a fetish for the way Tommy looks in the second after his composure cracks. He's so placid, normally, so icy, but when they get to that heartbeat where he looks brittle and wounded-

"You'll hit Sabini, and then when you have, my boys will too. Otherwise, you would be a pet. D'you see? And you're not, mate. We both know you're not."

[bleak_midwinter]

Tommy isn't in denial about this: the both of them are aware of how Tommy is affected right now. He hates it, hates that it makes him look so weak, like he couldn't make it in London if he wanted to, but like Alfie said--

He's not a pet. But Alfie wrenches something loose in him that he can't hide, and isn't stupid enough to try hiding.

He licks his lips and tastes blood (his own, this time), then nods. No more words to be spared on this right now; he'll hit Sabini, and that will be enough for him. Alfie can take care of his own affairs.

[ofanotherera]

"Ah, fuck."

He agrees with whatever it is that's unspoken, but in his expression right now. Alfie lowers the handkerchief, but keeps that grip on his jaw.

"It's this side of that door, and that, Tommy. I go and burn down London for you, and that line gets crossed. Nod you understand."

[bleak_midwinter]

He doesn't just nod- he shivers, almost violently. His toes curl in his boots and he tightens the muscles in his thighs, so badly does he want to move, talk, do anything at all- but also wants Alfie to keep that hold on his jaw, and to tell him these things.