A/N: For knowledge, Tommy and Alfie are in a somewhat established relationship here and this is supposed to happen around season four. Also, this is supposed to be a story about polyamory, so if you're not into it, you've been warned. Please, let me know what you think about it, because feedback is what feeds this writer and makes me continue working (and I really have no idea what you all are going to think about this one).

Warning: English is not my first language and this wasn't proofread by a beta.

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Tommy was in a sour mood. He had been like that for the entirety of the past week.

The tension was escalating fast in Small Heat. After his family was released from prison, they had ignored him for months. Then, all of them received black hands from the Italian mafia. Michael and John were shot, both still recovering in the hospital. The whole Shelby clan was gathered together on Watery Lane and everything was building up, making Tommy's stress levels go haywire.

Alfie was coming to the office that day, to deal with some business, now that Tommy couldn't leave Small Heat.

On any other day, this would probably lighten up Tommy's mood. Somehow, Alfie had a strange way of making his days better. Yet, today, with all things considered, Tommy was not sure if he had the patience required to deal with the man complaining about how much of a hellhole the city was, even when he looked damn good while doing it.

Maybe that was the reason he didn't notice her sooner.

"Do tell me, love, how did a God-fearing young lady, like yourself, ended up working for a faithless man like Thomas Shelby, huh?

Tommy lifted his eyes from the papers and the first thing he noticed was the smirk on Alfie's face.

The man had turned around in his chair, probably to have a better look at the woman standing a few feet from the doors. He was interested in her, Tommy recognized his body language well enough to acknowledge that. Then, he saw her.

Lizzie always had been the one who dealt with most of his stuff, especially when Alfie was concerned since she was one of the few people who knew that the nature of his relationship with the Londoner wasn't purely business anymore. It never crossed Tommy's mind that someone else would enter his office while Alfie was there that day.

As he took her in, Tommy wasn't surprised by the fact he hasn't noticed her sooner. The young woman could blend in quite well with the way she dressed, not to mention that she walked without making any sound, almost like a ghost.

Her dark blue dress did a perfect job of making her appear as plain as possible, not showing her curves and covering most of her skin. Long sleeves, the skirt covering all the way to her brown, worn-out shoes, the collar very close to her neck.

When she turned to face them, Tommy recognized what had caught Alfie's attention: a delicate silver cross hanging from her neck.

Her doe eyes quickly traveled from him to Alfie. From this distance, he couldn't distinguish their color, but he guessed that they must be brown, like her curly braided hair.

"Mrs. Gray knows my family from church, she was kind enough to offer me a job."

Tommy could have laughed at her answer. If he knew his aunt well, there must have been a motive behind this alleged act of goodwill—Polly rarely did something just out of kindness.

"My, my, good lass, from a good catholic family," Alfie mused, turning his head to face Tommy. "Isn't it impressive, Tom, how she did end up involved with you lot?"

"Where's Lizzie?" Tommy cuts in, not in the mood to play Alfie's games.

"She wasn't feeling well, Mr. Shelby, sir," she answered, shyly, trying to avoid his gaze, fidgeting with her clasped fingers.

Tommy could almost feel the fear radiating off of her when she continued, "She asked me to take care of things for today."

He barely acknowledged her answer before dismissing her with a wave of his hands, ignoring the strange sensation he felt when she called him "Mr. Shelby, sir".

"What's your name, sweetheart?"

Her hand was already on the doorknob when Alfie's voice reverberated in the room. Again, it took her a moment to turn and face them.

"Agnes."

"Agnes," Alfie parroted, "beautiful name."

The girl—Agnes—nodded, shyly, and exited the office quickly, anxious for an escape, closing the door behind her.

Alfie readjusted himself on the chair, facing him again, scratching his beard as he hummed to himself.

"Agnes," he paused, apparently savoring the name rolling off of his lips. "Do you know what it means?"

"No, Alfie, I don't fucking know what her name means."

"It's Greek, mate. It means pure, virginal, chaste. Usually associated with lambs."

He paused, and the glint in Alfie's eyes said everything that Tommy needed to know.

"Don't get any ideas, Alfie. She wouldn't get involved with man like us."

Old, dangerous and tainted. That's what they were. And she was young, Tommy could see that. Ada's age, maybe younger. Even associated with the company she still could get something better than get involved with them.

Alfie laughed at his words, the smirk on his lips matching the mischief in his eyes.

"Wouldn't she?"

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