"NAME?" ARTHUR ASKED WHILE DELILAH BLEW HER SMOKE IN FRONT OF HER, STARING AT THE NERVOUS MALE STANDING BEFORE THEM. 

"The Digbeth kid," he responded, anxiety lacing his tone.

Delilah chuckled and extended her arm towards the crystal ashtray on the table. Arthur lifted his eyes from his newspaper while John simply grinned, bringing his cigar to his mouth. Thomas was staring at the man, protected behind the snug doors. It was unsettling how nervous he could be, holding his hat in his trembling hands and visibly not handling the mockery.

"The Digbeth kid?" Arthur incredulously repeated. "What are you, a boxer?"

"Digbeth kid like Billy the Kid," the man explained, his eyes travelling to land on Delilah's mocking smirk.

"Yeah, we understood," she stated with a wink.

Arthur snorted while John chuckled, drifting his eyes towards the sunbathed window. Delilah bit her lower lip, trying to keep her seriousness. Either this man was very young in his head, or he believed it was impressive to be named after a picture character. It could have been if that man wasn't quite the opposite of Billy the Kid: a nervous wreck, unable to string three words without looking down at his shoes.

Frankly, Delilah could understand his nervousness. After all, she would be nervous too if she had to face four renowned gangsters searching for people to hire and create an army with. Alfie Solomons had made himself very clear: worthy people who could fight and weren't afraid to die for the cause. She wasn't so sure the Digbeth Kid was one of them.

"Spent a lot of time at the pictures, eh?" Thomas laughed, turning his face towards the younger man with his cigarette hanging between his fingers. "Cowboy pictures, Tom Mix. Yeah?"

The Digbeth Kid was adamantly nodding as Thomas threw names out there, Delilah hiding her grin behind her hand. The young man probably thought he'd be a war hero, a sacred martyr whenever he'd lose his life on the battlefield. She wanted to scream her lungs out for him to get out, that it wasn't this kind of war. He would never be remembered, he would be found lying dead on the pavement by Moss and his friends. He would never be sacred anything other than an idiot for giving his life away with the crazy hope of becoming a legend.

The Digbeth Kid shuffled his hand around his holster, making the three people sitting on the booth exit their own, pointing the weapons at his head. Delilah held her gun tightly in her hands, eyes darkening and smoke flying around her face.

"Wait, wait," the Digbeth Kid asked, his fingers fiddling with the belt. "It's not a real gun."

"Let's have a look then," Thomas said while standing up, placing his cigarette in the corner of his lips.

"It's made of wood," The Digbeth Kid explained.

Thomas was the one taking out the false weapon, pointing it towards his brothers. With a chuckle, he faked shooting them and they both pretended they were dead, carefully avoiding Delilah for the benefit of the imaginary story. John threw his head back when he was supposed to die, a childish chuckle escaping his lips when he looked at Delilah on his left.

"He saved the fuckin' princess," he muttered, taking his cigar out of his mouth.

"Where'd you get the gun belt?" Thomas asked, sitting back down in his chair.

"My sister made it out of an old blacksmith apron," The Digbeth Kid explained and Arthur shared a playful glance with Delilah. "My mum did most of the stitching. She's not my real mum, but —"

"She does what mothers do," Thomas cut him off, and Michael's face flashed in Delilah's brain. She cleared her throat and straightened in the booth, earning herself a glance from the Digbeth Kid. "So she made you a gun belt."

Arthur started mumbling about the boy taking the door but Thomas raised his hand, silencing his older brother. The Digbeth Kid glanced at the Shelby brothers and ended up staring at her face for a second, before Thomas cleared his throat and he drifted his eyes back to him.

"Have you ever been arrested?"

"Yeah," the boy responded, far too eager about this. Delilah chuckled and John nudged her side playfully.

"No," Delilah said with an understanding smile. "I'd say you've never been."

"Have you ever been arrested?" John demanded, laughing along with his older brothers.

"I mean, yeah, a couple of times actually," she recalled, raising a red eyebrow at the men. "Only six are written down in my record. But that's beside the point, he has a clean record. Don't you?"

The Digbeth Kid pursed his lips and nodded, which brought a chuckle through the redhead's throat. She fell back in the booth with a grin plastered on her lips.

"Good," Thomas said with a nod of his own, lips parting slightly with a gentle smile. "You're the first bloke in here today with no criminal record. Arthur, we can stand him up. You know what that means?"

Arthur closed his newspaper as Delilah frowned. She lit up a cigarette and took her first drag, staring at the lost kid in front of them. The Digbeth man shook his head, glancing at every face in the room. Fear was lingering behind his muddy brown orbs.

"The new Home Secretary wants something done about illegal gambling," Thomas started.

"Amen!" Delilah exclaimed, catching every boy's attention in the room.

The two brothers sitting by her side struggled to keep their faces neutral, barely concealing their laughter behind their glasses. The corners of Tommy's lips lifted slightly as he stared at the Digbeth Kid again, the brunette widening his eyes at the outburst.

"So we help our coppers make their quota of conviction by having men stood up to be arrested," Thomas carried on, his cerulean orbs never leaving the man's face. "First offence, you'll get a week inside, and we'll give you five quid for your trouble. How does that sound, cowboy?"

"Yeah," the Digbeth Kid responded, nodding his head excitedly.

"I just want to clarify something, before you go," Delilah interjected with a sweet smile upon her plump lips, leaning her chin on the back of her joined hands. "Drawing out a wooden gun isn't an offence, mate, so you'd better be creative with that one."

John snorted and the Digbeth Kid blushed, tightening his hands around his hat as he looked down at his shoes. Delilah felt bad about him being embarrassed, but at the same time, who was calling himself the Digbeth Kid and carrying a wooden gun? It was the first time she had ever seen something like this — and in London, she had seen a lot of surprising things.

"Write your address down for Finn on your way out," Thomas demanded, addressing a confident nod towards the young man.

"I can't write," the man said slowly, frowning deeply when Delilah chuckled silently.

"That's alright, Finn can't read," John responded with a shrug, straightening in his seat and bringing his cigar to his lips.

"Don't worry," Arthur said with a slight smile, the best he was able to manage at that moment.

"Tell him your address, we'll have someone round," Thomas assured and the Digbeth Kid turned around to exit the snug.

"If," John interjected loudly, pointing his index finger at the departing man, "the Sheriff doesn't run you out of town first."

Delilah let out a snort as Arthur lifted his amused gaze to the man. John lowered his finger with a laugh, his lips stretched out into the playful grin he so often adorned. The redhead grabbed a lighter resting on the wooden table and played with the flame, her unfinished cigarette forgotten between her long fingers.

"Good man!" Thomas said as the Digbeth Kid finally got out of the snug, casually closing the door behind himself.

"I don't know, Tom," Arthur spoke up, his eyes landing on his newspaper. "Kids these days..."

"They didn't fight," Thomas declared, his own cerulean gaze absorbed with the newspaper. "So they're different. They stay kids."

Delilah's heart ached as her stomach twisted. He was right, of course. Kids hopefully would never have to get into the same war they had, fighting for their country and throwing their lives out of the window to protect their honour. It had always been this way on the battlefield: them soldiers trying their best to be heroes, them nurses repairing what they could of the consequences. Martyrs were born to suffer and these men deserved to be sacred for what they had gone through.

"So you have a criminal record," John whispered, unwilling to disturb his two older brothers.

"But you already knew that, idiot," Delilah laughed, forgetting for a moment Tommy's heart-shattering words. "Forming a criminal organization, aggravated assault, gun ownership and disorderly conduct. I still haven't been arrested for murder, but it won't be long until it happens, right?"

John shared an impressed look with his brothers as she leaned her elbows on the table, hearing Finn yelling after the men waiting to get into the snug. It was too early for her to be sitting there with the boys and everybody knew that — though it didn't stop Thomas from forcing her to take part in this interview thing. After all, she was his business partner, and everything he was doing she was to supervise.

"Maybe it's you the Sheriff will run out of town," Arthur joked.

Delilah rolled her eyes playfully and let the butt of her cigarette fall into the ashtray, lifting her eyes when the door opened on a new man. He was taller than Digbeth Kid and she felt reassured to have her friends around her just in case. The man seemed quite unsettled and she didn't want to die in the Garrison, regardless of how pretty it had turned out to become.

"He should," she whispered back as Thomas met her gaze.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ 

When Arthur and John burst through their house's door, yelling after one another because of the Digbeth Kid and his bloody wooden gun, they certainly didn't expect Polly to be sitting with a man that looked eighteen. Delilah, who was in the middle of the duo, desperately trying to reach for Thomas behind his brothers, only noticed the calmer situation when she turned around and faced Arthur, his gun raised at her head and her hands held in the air.

"Put your hands down," John said while nudging her, his smile slowly disappearing.

Arthur shuffled by her side, putting his gun in his coat pocket and Michael looked them up and down, clearly recognizing Delilah from her visit with Thomas. After all, it hadn't been enough time for him to forget her, and even if he had wanted to, he couldn't. The way she had talked to him, so nicely, softly, while the other man had seemed cold and distant. How she had basically called his mother a liar while suggesting him to visit Polly to get to the bottom of this.

John and his older brothers snorted, bringing a grin on the redhead's face. She looked down at her shoes, eyes widened and a smile eating up half of her face. She wanted to blame them for such a pitiful entrance, but really she had had so much fun being run after by John all the way from the Garrison that she couldn't bring herself to do it.

"Alright then, Polly, who's this?" Arthur snickered, glancing at Thomas still standing by the front door.

"Gentlemen, this is your cousin," Thomas introduced, Polly's back straightening while her arm tightened around Michael's. "Polly's son, Michael."

That was when the boys really turned uncomfortable. Not expecting someone as important as Michael, Arthur's grin slowly fell and he shamefully joined John's side. Michael approached the duo to shake their hands, a firm grip as he stopped in front of them, deciding to greet Delilah after the introductions would be made.

"Pleased to meet you," Michael said as he crossed his arms over his chest, his voice deep and formal.

"I'm Arthur, you've met me," Arthur said sheepishly. "I used to throw you out the window so John could catch you."

"I used to put you in a shoebox and kicked you down Watery Lane," John added, and Delilah had to harshly bite her tongue to avoid a laugh escaping her mouth.

Michael's smile widened and he glanced at his polished shoes for a moment. When he lifted his eyes, Thomas was staring at the side of his face.

"I am actually so glad I didn't grow up with any of you," Delilah chuckled. A laugh exited Michael's throat as he approached her, engulfing her in his arms. She was surprised by the gesture but returned it, guessing it was gratitude he was showing. "Thank you for coming," she whispered before clearing her throat and breaking their embrace. "I'm Delilah, I'm working with your cousins. It's very nice to properly meet you, Michael."

As Michael shared that he only remembered the day he had been taken away and Polly wrapped her arms around her son's neck, Delilah and the two brothers by her side shifted uncomfortably. Affection was rare in the woman's actions, though each member of her people knew she cared about them, but displayed so shamelessly and genuinely made them shy away from the gesture.

"Well, you're here now, son," Thomas stated, his hands buried in his pockets. He placed his hand on Michael's shoulder. "Welcome to the Shelby family."

"Later we'll show you the ropes," Arthur stated with a nod.

"Yeah, we'll show you what's what," John added, earning a panicked glance from Polly.

"Let's leave him be for now, eh?" Thomas ordered, motioning for everyone to follow after him. "Come on boys, Lilah."

Before the redhead could follow Thomas through the hallway, Polly was grabbing her arm and harshly pulling her into a tight embrace. Delilah chuckled in the older woman's ear, under Michael's confused gaze.

"It's alright, Polly," Delilah affirmed, escaping the hug to join the boys.

They closed the double doors behind them, travelling through the betting shop where John and Arthur stopped by the books. Delilah followed Thomas into his office and once she was inside, he closed the door behind her firmly, locking it.

"I can't stay for your meeting with Billy Kitchen," she informed, sitting on the desk. "Milo organized this thing with my men for Camden Town."

"How many of them are coming with us to London?" Thomas inquired, stopping in front of her with his hand on his hips.

"Ten from Small Heath, twenty from London," Delilah responded with a proud smile. "Thirty in total. Plus the twenty that are guarding Ada's house if needed."

Thomas nodded and Delilah slid her long finger in the pocket of his blazer, exiting the golden fob watch and checking the hour. Her eyebrows shot on her forehead and she moved away from Thomas's desk, putting the watch where it belonged.

"Actually, I have to go," she said.

Thomas nodded and she placed her hand on his cheek, lightly kissing the other. When she detached herself from him, he grabbed her cheeks with one of his hands and brought her face to his, leaving a kiss on her lips. As she kissed him back, a chuckle left her throat and he pulled away.

"Careful or you'll get addicted," Delilah advised, raising on her tiptoe to offer him one last kiss. "I'll see you later, Tom."

Tommy Shelby feared to be addicted to her already, his body missing hers when the door closed behind her.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ 

The meeting was happening in the Garrison's snug. Thomas had allowed her to use the snug without his supervision as long as nothing would end up broken. Delilah had rolled her eyes but agreed, and now there she was, standing by the door and eyeing the twelve men sitting around the tiny room.

"Right," she started with a small smile. "The Peaky boys are leaving for Camden Town, so are we. It's not the usual business, no fighting, no killing, just a meeting with Alfie Solomons and the development of a plan against Darby Sabini."

"You're too hungry," one of the Italian men confidently affirmed, standing up from his spot. "He is dangerous and you know that."

"If this business stresses you, you're welcome to stay safely in your house and let hungry people handle it," Delilah retorted with a sickeningly sweet smile, Milo's scoff echoing behind her.

"Si fida dei Peaky Blinders più di quanto si fidi di noi ora," someone else mocked, raising an eyebrow at the redhead. "Non parla nemmeno italiano in meeting."

Delilah pinched the bridge of her nose violently before slamming her hand on the table so loudly everyone standing too close to the snug heard it. Thomas, who was passing by with Michael by his side, glanced at the door and motioned for Michael to stop for a second. He could take a minute to listen to the redhead literally losing her mind with her people inside his pub.

"Mi ascolti attentamente," she ordered, her finger finding her way under the Italian's chin to raise his face towards her. "Sei scambiabile, non ho bisogno di te. And if anyone has a problem with my way, then they can do it their way the fuck out of my face!"

Her voice had raised, higher than Angelo had ever heard her scream at someone. The Italian man was paralyzed on his seat, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. Even Milo had shut up, unable to get a word out of his mouth. Delilah ran her hand through her straight hair, turning around a second with her heels clicking against the floorboards. Thomas released a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding and gestured for Michael to follow him to the back room, where the telephone was stationed.

"Now, it is my way or no way, my darlings," Delilah said with a sweet voice, crossing her arms over her chest and facing the men again. "If you want to back out, be my guest. Anyone who wants his paycheck and is brave enough to face Alfie Solomons, andiamo. The rest can fuck off."

The two men that had spoken glanced at each other and simultaneously stood up. Delilah opened the sung's door silently, waiting for them to be gone and ignoring their apologies. When they were out of the Garrison, Delilah slammed the door hard and turned to the rest of her followers.

"Che liberazione," Delilah said with a wide grin, her eyes falling on the guys' faces. "Anyone else has something to say? It's now or never."

"I do," Milo responded with mischief shining in his dark brown eyes. "Ti ascoltiamo, baby."

Angelo and Milo discovered that they weren't allowed near Camden Town at the same time. Surprise covered their faces, and once the Italians had joined the Garrison's customers for a pint before they'd have to go, her brother and her best friend frustratingly snapped.

"Why the fuck would you do that?" Angelo yelled, his face contorted with anger. "Why do you always exclude us from your business? It's not fucking fair!"

"We followed you all the way from London to participate too, baby," Milo agreed, his voice a little lighter than Angelo's. "You cannot behave like we're not part of the gang stuff too."

"Listen, both of you," Delilah asked, raising her manicured hands between them just as the snug's door opened on Thomas. "Vi amo entrambi, very fucking much, and I care about you more than I care for anyone. This is why I am keeping you behind, because I trust you with all my being. Just because you are not in the spotlight doesn't mean I don't want you participating. You're staying in Birmingham because I trust you doing what I do at least as good as I do it, sometimes even better than me."

The two boys glanced at each other, silently debating whether they'd accept this or not. Flattery always worked on them and they knew it wasn't only words but the truth. They were the trusted ones, working in the shadows for the screen star she was. She was their leader, making decisions for them but always doing what was right for them. They were instigators, the people without whom nothing would be possible.

"We love you too," Angelo affirmed while they wrapped their arms around her tiny body, struggling to find enough room for the both of them to hold her. "Be careful, alright? We'll take care of everything here."

"Sto sempre attento," the redhead responded, kissing their cheeks and breaking their weird embrace. "Okay, now let me go before I get late, guys. I'll be back before you know it, in one piece."

Thomas cleared his throat and she jumped, the boys letting go of her with a wide smile. Delilah turned around and faced the most beautiful man she had ever seen, looking down at her with a tiny smile on his lips. She wanted to run her fingers through his ruffled hair but didn't move, staring at his eyes for longer than necessary. When she was done analyzing his features for the second time that day, she waved at her brother and her best friend and left them behind, following Thomas to the front door.

"How come your men are eight, now?" Thomas demanded, though he already knew the answer.

"Two of them got lost along the way," she vaguely said, arranging her hair with her hand and walking beside him. "Fucking traitors they are. What about your men? Everyone still coming?"

"Yep," Thomas responded with a wink, taking a sharp turn and stopping in front of trucks already loaded with people. Her eight men were squeezing between some of Billy Kitchen's stronger men, their gazes preoccupied and panicked when they met her. "They look afraid, these guys. Are you sure they'll make it?"

"Hey," Delilah chuckled, waving at her friends and hitting his arm playfully. "That was uncalled for and completely unfair. You would be rather impressed if you were to sit with all these tough guys."

Thomas scoffed as he counted the men in the back of the truck, Delilah giving a thumb up towards the eight Italians at the far back. They flashed her a tight smile and she moved to the passenger's side, settling comfortably for the long road that was awaiting them. She pushed her hair out of her face when Thomas joined her inside the vehicle, his large hands gripping the steering wheel and starting the engine.

"We're on the way, then," he said as his fingers tapped the wheel, barely glancing at her — out of nervousness, she supposed.

"I can't wait to get to Camden Town again," Delilah cheered half-heartedly, earning herself a snort from Thomas. "What? I hate that place."

"You love London," Thomas argued, his hand leaving the steering wheel to run down his face. "And you secretly love Alfie Solomons."

"I think you just figured out my secret," Delilah sighed with a smirk on her lips, lifting her feet to rest on the dashboard and letting her index finger play with her strands of red hair. "I'm fucking head over heels for a man I cannot understand when he's speaking and hates me most of the time. Fuck, I didn't think someone would ever discover this."

Thomas rolled his eyes as Delilah laughed, opening the window and extending her arm outside, letting the warm breeze hit her skin deliciously. She was ready for another harsh day, already dreaming of her bed — remembering the delightful moments she had shared with Thomas tangled in the sheets, but she was keeping them securely in a part of her mind to think about later.

In the meantime, she simply stared at his side profile, enjoying the perfect view and teasing him here and there. God, perhaps Polly and Milo were right, maybe she had been falling harder than she had thought.

ஜ۩۞۩ஜ 

It turned out that Delilah, Thomas and the ten men in the back of the truck were the last ones arriving. Delilah rushed the men out of the trunk, motioning for them to move along the stairs and to find their friends at the top of the bakery. Men were walking up the iron bridge crossing over the street, their eyes turning curiously towards the latecomers.

"Sbrigarsi," Delilah ordered, joining her men's side to the front. "Non ti preoccupare, just speak English, say that you're a baker and fuck off when he asks you to. Everything will be alright, I'll be waiting for you."

The Italians nodded and followed her lead through the wooden highway, stopping behind a long queue of men. Alfie's voice echoed through the whole hallway and Delilah sighed, his thick accent butchering her ears. Thomas joined her side and slid his hands in his pockets, nodding his head at a man that had just exited the Londoner's office.

"Andiamo," Delilah said, motioning for Thomas to follow her into the waiting room. Men were patiently filling their files, carefully writing their names. A man raised his hand towards the redhead and she stopped, looking at the paper over his shoulder. "How can I help you?"

"You look posh," he confidently explained, his fingers pointing at his barely readable writing. "You know how to read, right?"

"I do," she affirmed, a small smile forming on her lips. "You wrote your name correctly, but you need to write your occupation here and sign at the bottom of the page."

"Baker, then," the man wrote down, lifting his eyes to wink at the woman. "Thank you, Miss."

"It's no problem," she responded with a flashing grin, walking towards Thomas and crossing her arms over her chest.

Thomas glanced at the redhead whilst she turned away from him, her green eyes staring into the hallway where the first Italian was walking. He had his dark eyes staring right back at her, confidence written all over his face — he had followed her instructions and had passed the test. When he passed beside her, Delilah placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed, making Thomas miss the warmth of her touch.

When all the men were standing before them, files in hands, Thomas cleared his throat, his posture relaxed by Delilah's presence by his side. She was staring at every face, making eye contact with each one of them to make sure they wouldn't confuse her with something she wasn't — an assistant, for example.

"All right boys, you've now all been enrolled as bakers in the Aerated Bread Company of Camden Town," he explained, raising a dark eyebrow at his people. "If anyone asks, that's what you do. You're bakers."

"In Camden Town, you're safe from coppers," Delilah carried on, unfolding her arms to cross them behind her back. "If you go North or South, show them that piece of paper, and you'll be fine. If anything is planned to hurt any of you, you'll be protected and informed by my people. Don't worry yourself about that, they are all over London and know about everything."

"Tell them you've come down from north to find work, to break strikes," Thomas continued, his hand holding a cigarette. "Tell them you're fascists if you have to. We're finding lodgings for you, but for now, you'll sleep here in the bakery. But don't touch any of the bread, it'll most likely explode."

"Questions?" Delilah asked, raising a red eyebrow at a man who lifted his hand in the air. "Yes?"

"I haven't even seen any bread," the man said, laughing along with his comrades.

Delilah shared a glance with Thomas before they both turned to Alfie, leaning against a table at the far end of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. He was staring down at his crossed ankles and Delilah feared the worst. The laughter died down around them and Tommy cleared his throat, bringing his cigarette to his lips.

Alfie's footsteps echoed behind her, his eyebrows furrowed and fury glowing in his muddy eyes. Delilah took a slight step towards Thomas, their arms now brushing as Alfie walked past her, stopping in front of the proclaimed funnyman. He stared at him for a second, the man's grin slowly disappearing from his face, before Alfie's left hand flew through the air and made contact with another man who had the misfortune to be standing close to him.

The man screamed and fell to the ground. Delilah's and Thomas's faces stayed impassive, though her heart was beating wildly in her ribcage. There it was again, the violence, the blood. There she was, standing in front of unfairness and hatred. Alfie Solomons had always had a temper, one he couldn't exactly control, but Delilah hadn't witnessed one of his outbursts in a very long while.

"He'll wake up," Alfie assured, turning towards the joker with a metallic object tapping against his chest. "He won't have any teeth left but he will be a wiser man for it. And the last thing he will remember is your funny little joke. Won't he?"

The two stared at each other. They could hear a pin drop, the overwhelming silence making Delilah's nervousness slowly increase until it was on the verge of exploding. Thomas glanced at her, keeping his face emotionless and was relieved to see she was just about accustomed to this behaviour, though her fingers were slightly shaking behind her back.

"Right!" Alfie yelled and if Delilah hadn't been expecting it so badly she would have dropped to the ground with surprise. "There are fucking rules here. Yeah, there are fucking rules for a fucking reason. Quite simply, they have to be obeyed. All right?"

One of her men glanced at her and Delilah softly nodded her head, motioning for him to simply listen.

"Rule number one," Alfie started, his voice going up an octave and making Delilah wonder how he could still be talking. "The distinction between bread and rum, yeah, is not discussed. Rule number two. Anything, right, that your superior officer says to you or any of your other fucking superior officers say to you, yeah? Not discussed! Rule number three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, I don't care. For the rest of your fucking miserable measly lives, yeah? Because I, like you, am also a complete fucking sodomite. Jewish women. You do not go anywhere near them because Jewish women for you are off the fucking menu. I think that's fair."

Alfie then turned towards Billy Kitchen, once again starting a staring contest. Billy looked down at the shorter guy, his face emotionless and unimpressed. He turned away from Alfie's furious glare before glancing down at the unconscious man on the ground. Alfie hummed and turned towards Delilah and Thomas, who were watching him in silence. Alfie glanced at Thomas but his eyes settled on Delilah, muddy brown turning liquid.

"That's it, then," he stated, shrugging his shoulders. "Forgive me, I interrupted you."

Alfie walked past them and went back to the far end of the room, crossing his arms over his chest in his favourite position. Delilah glanced at Thomas who was staring at the funnyman, gesturing towards the man laying on the ground.

"Pick him up," he ordered, and the man did as told quickly. He then moved to Billy Kitchen's side, speaking in a low tone. "Get them out of here, and make this fucking work."

Thomas stopped by her side, his arms crossed over his chest while Billy yelled at the men to fucking go to work. Delilah released a breath she didn't know she had been holding, exiting a box of cigarettes from her coat pocket at the same time as Thomas. They both placed the cancer stick in their mouths, Delilah's hand working a heavy lighter that had once belonged to Arthur while Thomas struck a match.

Accordingly, they walked out of the room, Delilah's heels clicking against the floorboards. They waited to be back in the open air to talk, Delilah opening her mouth first.

"Are you visiting Ada now?" she asked, not even sparing a glance in his direction.

"I am, yeah," Thomas responded while blowing his cigarette smoke, watching as it was taken hostage by the wind.

"Alright," Delilah carried on, speaking so fastly Thomas couldn't help but look at her curiously. "A friend of mine called me yesterday, so I can't go with you. That's the address," she informed while giving him a shiny visit card. "Pick me up when you're done. And tell Ada I said hello."

Without another word, Delilah moved away from him, and he stared at the straight strands of red hair bouncing in her back. Slowly, the sound of heels hitting the ground disappeared and he wondered what exactly would have her so cold towards everything. In her heart, Delilah knew she was doing the right thing. In her brain though, it felt like she was playing with fire and was about to get burnt for it.

She stopped in front of a pretty house, her breath itching in her throat. Delilah couldn't believe she was back in town, though she would be back into her new home very soon. Her knuckles hit the wooden front door and she waited patiently until it opened on a tall blonde, ocean eyes drowned in tears. She was holding a handkerchief in her hands, cheeks reddened by the water falling from the edge of her eyes and lips trembling with uncontrollable sadness.

"Oh, Madeline," Delilah whispered, wrapping her arms around her friend's neck.

Madeline sniffled in her neck, arms shakingly hugging her back. Delilah closed her eyes and Madeline's vanilla perfume drifted through her nostrils, bringing comfort to her heart and pain to her brain.

"Everything will be okay," she murmured, her hand caressing the blonde's hair as she rushed inside the home, closing the door behind her. "We will make everything alright again."

ITALIAN WORDS : 

Si fida dei Peaky Blinders più di quanto si fidi di noi ora = She trusts de Peaky Blinders more than she trusts us

Non parla nemmeno italiano in meeting = She doesn't speak Italian in meetings

Mi ascolti attentamente = listen to me carefully

Sei scambiabile, non ho bisogno di te = You are interchangeable, I don't need you

Andiamo = let's go

Che liberazione = Good riddance

Ti ascoltiamo = we're all ears

Vi amo entrambi = I love you both

Sto sempre attento = I'm always careful

Non ti preoccupare = don't worry

Sbrigarsi = Hurry up

Andiamo = let's go