( she'd left it a couple of days after their initial conversation before agreeing to meet him and whilst she could likely spin him a tale about timings of the moon really it was that perhaps she had a few other things to do first. one of those being seeing what her own little birds had to say. what stolas could find for her. and the bird did well.
it makes him easy to locate when she arrives at the pub, ignoring the glances of anyone else that may be there, taking her steps to him. and perhaps lilith isn't what he expect as she walks in, dressed far differently than the typical ideas of a witch may conjure to the imagination, dark waves thrown down her back and even how she holds herself is of someone with class, teaching. money.
it's only when she stops by him that she finally speaks, her accent certainly not that of someone around here but even someone well-travelled would find it hard to place where she's from )
Mr Shelby.
( she'd gotten an idea of when he'd be in the bar from stolas, able to easily find him even without having set a date and time for their meeting. she wants to see how he responds to something slightly more unexpected. which is everything about her )
[in its own symbolistic fashion, small heath does evoke the christian idea of hell. it's home to a great many miserable and anguished souls, living under the yoke of relentless industry. their labours never seem to end. at all hours, metal clangs and sparks fly. the buildings and lanes are in a state of abject squalor, illuminated at unpredictable intervals by industrial processes belching smoke and spewing flames. some days, the ash from the furnaces blankets everything like snow. it can be hard to keep time without a watch, or tell clouds apart from pollution. everyone doing well for themselves in a place like this is inevitably characterised as a devil. tommy shelby in particular. he's a devil among devils.
the atmosphere is somewhat more convival inside the pub, but not by much. the overlapping chatter doesn't die down around lilith. not everyone turns to look at her from the moment she walks in, but plenty of them do. there's at least one pair of eyes on her at every table. most women would find this specific type of attention uncomfortable, if not overtly menacing.
thanks to stolas, lilith knows who she's looking for. even if she didn't, tommy wouldn't be hard to pick out. he's stood with his left arm along the bar, leaning his weight in. there's bottle of irish whiskey set out in front of him. he has a glass in his right hand and a smoke between the selfsame fingers. he cuts a lonely figure. there are plenty of patrons in the pub, but none are willing to stand too close on either side of him. that leaves room for her, doesn't it?]
Madam Wardwell.
[he looks up only after he's greeted. nonchalant, yet as self-assured as a king holding court. it's a rapid process of elimination for him. there's no one else he'd talked about meeting whom he wouldn't recognise on sight. she isn't anything like he'd imagined. he'd imagined an old crone. she certainly isn't that. she looks far too elegant to end up telling fortunes in a place like this, to a man like him.
for what it's worth, he is impressed to have his routine found out. she couldn't have asked someone where he'd be and when. no one who knows him would dare to give him away. local people keep their mouths shut. they don't talk about his family's comings and goings, unless the talking is to warn others.]
Will you have a drink? I'd like to think you didn't choose the Garrison just for my benefit.
[if she's not going to avail herself of what a pub has to offer, that would make him wonder why she chose to do this here at all. there's a more private area to move to, but he thinks it best to offer her some hospitality first.]
( though she smiles the warmth that would normally be found in such a smile isn't there, it being simply polite. though she does give a nod to the bartender who's hovering nearby, accepting the glass from him and sliding it towards tommy.
despite the fact that they're still being watched lilith appears completely oblivious to it as if she hasn't noticed. she has, she often draws attention where she goes, either for her appearance or how she carries herself but rather than be disturbed by it she lets it fuel her, drawing power from the appreciation (and fear) )
We do have an appointment after all.
( she lifts the glass to drink when it's slid back, an act as if they're old acquaintances sharing a drink, or regular business rather than the strangers that they are )
[the stares persist. even the bartender, harry, glances anxiously between them. harry's seen too much from behind the bar to think that any good can come from this association. there are men in this pub who'd say they don't believe in witches, but the sight of lilith and the fact that tommy takes her seriously will be enough to give them pause.]
We do, at that.
[he won't bother trying to reciprocate a smile he can tell she doesn't mean. he barely ever smiles. nonetheless, he's generous with the measure he pours for her. she could have asked the bartender for something else, but it feels more friendly to share. he knocks his own glass back in time with her. if they're quick to get past being strangers, he won't complain. he'd prefer to know her, at least a little.
setting his glass down empty, he clears his throat and takes a drag of his cigarette.]
And your timing couldn't be better.
[she knows how well she did without being told. he just says so to let her know he's thinking about it. if she'd arrived earlier, he would have been in his office at the betting shop. later and his brothers would've joined him at the pub and they'd have lost their chance to meet alone.
he pushes off from the aureate surface of the bar, stepping back and gesturing toward the snug. inside, there's a larger, cleaner table for them to sit around and a door to close behind them. for their purposes, it's almost like a confessional. if they still want the whiskey, harry will bring it in to them.]
( it's only as he moves that lilith looks around the bar, meeting the gaze of a few of them as if letting them know she's caught them.
but it's brief, enough to make a few of them sheepishly turn away before lilith slides from her stool, following tommy, the size of the snug mattering little to her )
[there's lingering cigarette smoke in the air in here, as well as old whiskey, and the earthy notes of a thousand spilled pints. he shuts the door on the rest of the pub, but wood and glass only do so much to muffle the sound seeping in from the other side.
tommy indicates with another loose hand gesture that lilith should make herself comfortable in the snug, but eases into a seat himself without waiting. he'd abandoned his last cigarette with the empty glass at the bar, and now reaches for the inner pocket of his suit jacket to set up for another one. with a measure of indifference, he unloads a cigarette case and a box of matches on the table. he doesn't do anything with them yet, they're just there in preparation.
his seated posture makes no secret of the fact he's wearing a gun holster. the webley revolver tucked inside was his service weapon.
his tone's mild, feeling he can best answer madam wardwell's question with a question.]
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no subject
( she'd left it a couple of days after their initial conversation before agreeing to meet him and whilst she could likely spin him a tale about timings of the moon really it was that perhaps she had a few other things to do first. one of those being seeing what her own little birds had to say. what stolas could find for her. and the bird did well.
it makes him easy to locate when she arrives at the pub, ignoring the glances of anyone else that may be there, taking her steps to him. and perhaps lilith isn't what he expect as she walks in, dressed far differently than the typical ideas of a witch may conjure to the imagination, dark waves thrown down her back and even how she holds herself is of someone with class, teaching. money.
it's only when she stops by him that she finally speaks, her accent certainly not that of someone around here but even someone well-travelled would find it hard to place where she's from )
Mr Shelby.
( she'd gotten an idea of when he'd be in the bar from stolas, able to easily find him even without having set a date and time for their meeting. she wants to see how he responds to something slightly more unexpected. which is everything about her )
no subject
the atmosphere is somewhat more convival inside the pub, but not by much. the overlapping chatter doesn't die down around lilith. not everyone turns to look at her from the moment she walks in, but plenty of them do. there's at least one pair of eyes on her at every table. most women would find this specific type of attention uncomfortable, if not overtly menacing.
thanks to stolas, lilith knows who she's looking for. even if she didn't, tommy wouldn't be hard to pick out. he's stood with his left arm along the bar, leaning his weight in. there's bottle of irish whiskey set out in front of him. he has a glass in his right hand and a smoke between the selfsame fingers. he cuts a lonely figure. there are plenty of patrons in the pub, but none are willing to stand too close on either side of him. that leaves room for her, doesn't it?]
Madam Wardwell.
[he looks up only after he's greeted. nonchalant, yet as self-assured as a king holding court. it's a rapid process of elimination for him. there's no one else he'd talked about meeting whom he wouldn't recognise on sight. she isn't anything like he'd imagined. he'd imagined an old crone. she certainly isn't that. she looks far too elegant to end up telling fortunes in a place like this, to a man like him.
for what it's worth, he is impressed to have his routine found out. she couldn't have asked someone where he'd be and when. no one who knows him would dare to give him away. local people keep their mouths shut. they don't talk about his family's comings and goings, unless the talking is to warn others.]
Will you have a drink? I'd like to think you didn't choose the Garrison just for my benefit.
[if she's not going to avail herself of what a pub has to offer, that would make him wonder why she chose to do this here at all. there's a more private area to move to, but he thinks it best to offer her some hospitality first.]
no subject
( though she smiles the warmth that would normally be found in such a smile isn't there, it being simply polite. though she does give a nod to the bartender who's hovering nearby, accepting the glass from him and sliding it towards tommy.
despite the fact that they're still being watched lilith appears completely oblivious to it as if she hasn't noticed. she has, she often draws attention where she goes, either for her appearance or how she carries herself but rather than be disturbed by it she lets it fuel her, drawing power from the appreciation (and fear) )
We do have an appointment after all.
( she lifts the glass to drink when it's slid back, an act as if they're old acquaintances sharing a drink, or regular business rather than the strangers that they are )
no subject
We do, at that.
[he won't bother trying to reciprocate a smile he can tell she doesn't mean. he barely ever smiles. nonetheless, he's generous with the measure he pours for her. she could have asked the bartender for something else, but it feels more friendly to share. he knocks his own glass back in time with her. if they're quick to get past being strangers, he won't complain. he'd prefer to know her, at least a little.
setting his glass down empty, he clears his throat and takes a drag of his cigarette.]
And your timing couldn't be better.
[she knows how well she did without being told. he just says so to let her know he's thinking about it. if she'd arrived earlier, he would have been in his office at the betting shop. later and his brothers would've joined him at the pub and they'd have lost their chance to meet alone.
he pushes off from the aureate surface of the bar, stepping back and gesturing toward the snug. inside, there's a larger, cleaner table for them to sit around and a door to close behind them. for their purposes, it's almost like a confessional. if they still want the whiskey, harry will bring it in to them.]
This way, when you're ready.
no subject
but it's brief, enough to make a few of them sheepishly turn away before lilith slides from her stool, following tommy, the size of the snug mattering little to her )
I assume you have something specific in mind.
( to start their business )
no subject
tommy indicates with another loose hand gesture that lilith should make herself comfortable in the snug, but eases into a seat himself without waiting. he'd abandoned his last cigarette with the empty glass at the bar, and now reaches for the inner pocket of his suit jacket to set up for another one. with a measure of indifference, he unloads a cigarette case and a box of matches on the table. he doesn't do anything with them yet, they're just there in preparation.
his seated posture makes no secret of the fact he's wearing a gun holster. the webley revolver tucked inside was his service weapon.
his tone's mild, feeling he can best answer madam wardwell's question with a question.]
Do you believe in curses?