For Letty

[bleak_midwinter]

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[bleak_midwinter]

He won't dispute that. She must know, from the way people spoke about him on her journey here, that this is his territory.

"So are you trying to see where the world ends, or are you looking for danger?" Because he knows men who do the latter, who couldn't settle after the gunfire ceased.

[leavetreadmarks]

The answer seemed obvious to her but then - she reminds herself - she knows who she is. She's changed since she volunteered, of course, but not that much, not in that way.

So the corner of her mouth twists again in her dry, small smile, and she raises an eyebrow. "Which do you think?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"A woman who volunteered for what you did, and who turns up asking a wounded soldier for her gun back after a year..."

He trails off and he mirrors that smile. "Well. Who am I to think that I could predict a woman like that?"

[leavetreadmarks]

"Who indeed," she echoes, amused, but her eyes drop to her hands on the teacup - to where she puts it down, and picks idly at the ragged edge of one of her thumbnails as the smile fades.

"I'd thought that if you were still here, if you still had it, if it was still in good repair and still had ammunition - if you were still willing to return it, that I might yet sell it, or trade it." The stark tone of voice speaks to exactly how aware she is of how many ifs are in that train of thought, of how flimsy a chance she knew it was when she set out to take it. "There is, I suppose, a kind of fortune in the overall lack of strategy involved in ferrying the wounded from battlefield to hospital."

[bleak_midwinter]

He lets that settle between them, lets that thought hang right where it is until he smooths it over with a sigh, with a sip of tea.

"But now that all those ifs turned out to be true... will you sell it? Where will that money take you?"

[leavetreadmarks]

"Have they now," she comments, but doesn't pursue it, doesn't pick up her usual prickly demeanor just yet. Instead she looks up, just her eyes first, then straightening her back as she tucks loose hair back behind her ear, raises her chin.

"A quarter of the way to where home used to be, if I'm shrewd. I'd have to decide what to do then, work with wherever I found myself," she admits, not happily. "That's if I wasn't accused of stealing it outright, of course. I'm not stupid enough to dismiss that as a possibility. If I'm honest, Thomas Shelby, there aren't any good choices and haven't been since before the ifs showed their worth."

[bleak_midwinter]

"Then let me offer you an alternative," he says, leaning forward a little, his tea abandoned for now. "You could sell the gun and move away- or you could keep it and earn your way home."

[leavetreadmarks]

"Could I?" Her voice is very, very even, and her gaze very, very steady and very, very dark. It had already occurred to her, the shape of it, but not the details yet; she'd been working on that when it comes from him instead, which is an entirely different prospect. "And what does that alternative entail?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"What company doesn't have use of a woman of your caliber, with your training? I'd be a fool not to offer you work, Letty."

He spreads his hands on the table, the wood heavy and scarred between his fingers. "Can you read? Do calculations?"

[leavetreadmarks]

"I believe the operative word there is woman," she points out coolly, but the rest she can agree with readily enough, and after all: she knows how few people people can answer those questions in the affirmative.

"I can. You are also aware of my other skills: riding and evaluating horseflesh, shooting, and keeping my mouth firmly shut."

[bleak_midwinter]

He leans back again, satisfied. Honestly, she would be a big help, as he's quite grown to like her in the past half hour. If she decides to stay he'd be very pleased-- but she's not the kind of woman who'll be coerced into anything.

"There's no more space in the house for you, but we can find you lodgings. You can think about it, if you need to."

[leavetreadmarks]

Indeed she isn't, and it has caused her not inconsiderable problems in her life before now. "I can find my own lodgings," she says immediately, unwilling to deal entirely on even earned charity. She's already accepting more than she's comfortable with, although she's also capable of recognizing that she can't eat or ride pride, or pull it over her head in the rain.

She doesn't have to think about it. She already had been, though she's not ready to play that card yet.

"What would be the duties, the pay? What of the rest of your family? Is it not their business as well?"

[bleak_midwinter]

He waves off the first part- fine, she can find her own lodgings, it's no skin off his back. Besides, he'll more than likely own the man or woman running the place, and if anything ever happens he'll know of it.

"I'll call a family meeting, after we're done here. Talk it over." Though there's a certainty about him, a certain flippant quality, that implies they'll accept whatever Tommy decides. "We need someone to do the books. My brother's poor with numbers, and I need someone fast and efficient. I'd say six pounds a month would be good, to start with."

[leavetreadmarks]

It's the tone that catches her, not by surprise - she isn't in the least - but it's interesting nonetheless. The kind of interesting that she can understand, or that can warn of more serious, better hidden problems.

But mostly, nodding in acceptance of the rest of the terms, of the explanation, she settles her arms on the edge of the table and turns her teacup a little more with her fingers, idly.

"Tell me about them? Your family."

[bleak_midwinter]

Despite himself, warmth always seeps into his voice when he talks about his family. He twitches a smile and raises his cup to his mouth, takes a sip before he speaks.

"I have two brothers who were in the war, and one who was too young to go. A sister, who thinks she's a nurse but barely knows how to apply a bandage, and our aunt Polly, without whom we'd all be homeless. And John has his four children he takes care of as a widower."

[leavetreadmarks]

"The brothers that were in the war: they were in a separate unit, from you and your friends?"

The rest of it tells more of an interesting tale: an aunt but no mother or father or uncle, a brother who is a single father of four, and an assortment in between, to say nothing of Tommy himself.

[bleak_midwinter]

He nods, crosses his legs at the knee. "They were, mostly. They mostly spent time in the trenches- still in France, though."

[leavetreadmarks]

"Your family didn't lose any?" Just to be clear.

[bleak_midwinter]

He shakes his head. "None. We were very lucky."

[leavetreadmarks]

She nods in agreement: yes, they were. It's all she's willing to give to that for the moment, unwilling to give more, unwilling to take more from his family.

"I look forward to meeting them, then. And to learning if this arrangement can indeed be as happy as it sounds at the moment."

[bleak_midwinter]

He nods, satisfied. That'll do, for now- he's happy she's decided to try it, he's happy with the prospect of another capable employee. He exhales, sits up straight.

"Very well, then. I suppose you'd like the weapon back now?"

[leavetreadmarks]

Letty isn't entirely sold on the agreement, but she's at least willing to give it more than a fair chance. She's under no illusions that she has a better option, of course, and much, much more of herself wants to trust him than doesn't. The rest barely makes a dent when these two points are considered.

Besides, she has never had a problem extracting herself from situations she finds intolerable, so she nods and sets her teacup down, mostly empty.

"I would, yes. I trust you found it useful while in your possession?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"It saved me then, but I've kept it safe since returning. Come on," he urges, standing up and opening the doors back into the betting shop. It's up a flight of stairs, first, and he takes his time, lets her look around if she wants to again.

[leavetreadmarks]

She's quick to fall in behind him, folding her coat over her arm and smoothing her skirts a little as she stands. She's ready for the noise and the movement of the shop this time, more familiar with the layout, so her gaze the second time around is more strategic: she looks at the boards, then at the men accepting bets, then at the customers coming in, and picks up an empty slip to look at while they walk, hands it off to one of the bettors as they pass through when she's finished.

When it's quiet enough again that she doesn't have to yell to be heard, she asks, "Do you still have ammunition for it?"

[bleak_midwinter]

"I got some when I came back here," he says, as he goes to his knees in front of his bed. It takes some digging, with his uniform being underneath there as well, and some other things besides.

"Might as well take advantage of living right next to the bloody Small Arms Factory, eh?"