At thirteen and three quarters, Polly-Anna trusted very few people and Thomas Shelby had barely been one of them.

So, when she saw a startled
Thomas banging his fists against the tailors door at eight fifty three, she was perplexed. She was almost certain she said she'd be there for nine at the latest, and she still gad time to make the five minute journey back to their house on Watery Lane.

Having already put away most of her equipment, minus the big heavy fabric scissors and her own orange thread, she apprehensively approached the door, a pair of duller scissors behind her back- in case it was all a rouse to get her out into the open.

Forgive me father, for I am scared of what could happen and I don't want to be held accountable for my actions created from panic and fear. She had every right to be fearful, especially of the unknown.

The unknown was where secrets lie, it's where the things that people want hidden come to life— it's where every single insecurity that Polly-Anna had ever had lingers, trying to find the next person to latch onto.

Thomas all but burst into the tailors, blood dripping from his nose- which wasn't exactly what she wanted to see. The usually levelheaded and calm Thomas Shelby was anything but that. He looked like a mess, his shirt untucked at the front, his once semi-kept hair now as messy as what she thought it would be in the mornings...

Not that she thought about what he looked like in the mornings—

As she watched the tears begin to well up in his eyes, she handed him a tissue, forcing his head backwards slightly- simply to examine the damage that had been done by what she hoped was an unsuspecting doorframe.

"I'm sorry— I just, didn't know who to go to, but now-" Thomas took a deep breath, sucking in as much air as his lungs allowed, "now I feel like I've scared you from here to Timbuktu."

Having no idea where this Timbuktu was, all she could do was nod with hesitance.

Using one hand to keep his head upright, no matter how much he tried to fight it, she got in closer. To a point where one wrong move and their noses would collide and surely cause the male in the room more pain than necessary. From her quick observation- an observation made from someone who didn't have a medical license or know anything about the medical field, she determined it to not be broken.

"Dare I—"

"Ambers fine, conked out in Johns room. Reading and spelling done for the weekend too. She's fine, unscathed— perfectly fine." His words sounded like he was trying to convince himself rather than her but she took it with hands wide open.

She was fine, and Polly-Anna didn't have to worry anymore about her... just the bleeding boy sat in her sewing chair.

"Then, dare I—?" She pointed towards the nose, finger wiggling from side to side.

He let out an exasperated sigh, taking hold of the tissue that she had rested under his nose. At first, he thought of lying, but he knew that somehow she'd find out the truth, women usually did. What was the point of him lying to someone that he so desperately wanted to find trust in. He wanted her to trust him as much as he wanted to trust her.

But Arthur Shelby made the Shelby offsprings trust very little. Finding trust in anyone that wasn't a brother, or a sister was like finding a freshly printed pound note on the street.

Was he ready to be this open with a girl he had met three weeks prior? She had given him no reason to not trust her, but then again... she hadn't given him a reason to either. Or, was Thomas Shelby closing his world down to allow no one else entry, to save himself from further hurt and heartache. From unneeded anger and misplaced feelings.

No. No, he wasn't about to turn into his father, at least not before his eighteenth birthday and he still had five more years to go.

"I'll make you a cuppa if that'll get you talking?"

They both let out a small laugh, one more forced than the other. Thomas and Anna both headed towards the back room, knowing that people would already be coming up with elaborate stories of why the two thirteen year olds were left alone in the shop. All stories would be a million years away from the truth knowing the mothers of Small Heath.

"Our dads a boxer, one who travels the world," or something, Thomas added in his head before continuing with his well needed and very overdue heart to heart. "He's always so angry, and has a shorter fuse than Arthur... ironic really, since they've the same name."

The true occupation of the Shelby patriarch was a little darker than what Thomas had laid out on the table. He was a thief, a swindler, a schemer— a whoremonger. He was ever shade of evil that God had created, and nothing about that man had ever been holy. He was always of a mindset of 'holier than thou', of course- if things made him money, that was quickly brushed under the rug. When he wasn't at home, everyone had easier nights and their sleep came quick, welcoming them into dreams of warmth and happiness— but when he was home? The chances of an easy night went straight out of the window, just like their money had.

Luckily for Mabel, they had already paid for the suit and dress that Polly-Anna was working on. Not being able to pay for those would've crushed Mabel's spirit, and she already had enough to deal with.

"What— what sparked this kind of reaction, then?" She asked, carefully, not intending to shove her foot into her mouth anymore than needed.

Thomas paused, leaning against the bassinet with little force. Who knew what would break in that little back office. He really thought about it, because there wasn't one thing that had necessarily sparked flint for the gas burner within him.

At first, he thought it was because they had spent a little more money for the christening on Sunday, and then his mind went to the extra head in the house... but it wasn't those, it was his ego being bruised by Arthur Junior and Thomas being better men than he ever would be.

"He felt... emasculated in his own home I guess? Cause— cause me and Arthur, well.. we've always just been better than he ever was." Thomas explained, taking the hot cup of tea off of her.

Polly-Anna had only ever seen their father in passing, told by her own father that he was the enemy. She was four when this had happened, and not long after she turned five, her mother died and she ended up with a new one weeks later. Taking words seriously from her own father became difficult. More so when he fled, just like she suspected Arthur Senior would in the future.

"Is Arf alright?" She asked, watching him intensely.

Though, all he could genuinely reply with was a shrug. Who knew if Arthur was alright after what had happened- he had gotten the brunt of the force, Thomas was just an afterthought. Had John been old enough, maybe he would've been sat with them both in the back room of the tailor shop. Hell, if John had been there— no, Thomas didn't want to think about it.

John was his little brother, Ada was his little sister. Both far too young to bare witness to the atrocities that their father brought with him.

"He will be... we've got the christening Sunday and there's no way the old man'll fuck that up for our aunt Pol."

Sometimes, Polly-Anna wondered if the saying 'famous last words' was anymore applicable to a family like the Shelby's. They came out with a multitude of different off the cuff comments that could come back to strike them down, but they were lucky. Luckier than any other family on the block.

"Nose stopped leaking?" Polly-Anna asked, trying to ease the newfound tension between the two.

Thomas couldn't help but let out a short laugh- never in his life had he heard a nosebleed be referred to as a leak before. It was... just what he needed to hear, actually.

"Yeah, dress finished being in pieces?" He returned the question.

Never had the duo laughed so hard in their lifetimes. It was strange how one little thing could make the tension ease until it was nonexistent- especially for those two. They didn't know it yet, but they needed each other to learn and to grow into who they were meant to be.

"It's as done as it can be. Orange thread and all." She spoke, walking out of the back room but only for a moment.

As she walked back in, she had a beautifully elegant dress in her hand. Modest, and rather plain to the eye, but it was the smaller details that Thomas first noticed. Embroidery, flowers along the hem, the collar and on the cuffs, in an array of complimenting colours— but the orange lilies on the tips of the collar?

Well, they were clearly Polly-Anna's signature finally coming out for the whole world to see. His eyes were full of — something she had never seen before. Thomas felt a strange sense of pride towards a girl who he wanted to hate as much as he wanted to like.

Thomas's hand stretched out to touch the fabric, but was quickly slapped away.

"Bloody fingers, don't touch."
"Alright, alright! I'm sorry-"

He wasn't sorry, not entirely and she knew that. Not from the smirked smile on his face, but from the ever so gentle twitch in his voice.

A tell, perhaps.

"Can I take this home— can you show this to my mother?" He asked with yet another new emotion reigning his voice with full force.

"Won't she be—"
"Nah! Nah, she'll be cleaning up the grumpy fucks mess, come on! We can go now and show it to her."

Even Amber-Jack was never this excitable, but she did have to admit, it was refreshing to see a man show exactly what he was feeling so openly and without fear of repercussion.  It was refreshing to see a man care enough about another person to put themselves into harms way- one day, Polly-Anna hoped she could find a man like that. One she could have all to herself.

"Fine, just, keep that tissue on your nose until we can find something cold."