He looked at her. Her pupils were huge in the darkness. He pressed his lips together. Looked up at the ceiling. Who the fuck is Tommy Shelby?

"Fuck," he said, and he kissed her.

What are you? She had asked him. He slid his hands down her thighs, lifted her up, had her up against the wall. Isn't that what gangsters do? Her thighs were soft in his hands and he marvelled at how easy it was to carry her, to do whatever he wanted to her, and he couldn't feel the bulletholes but he thought he could feel the blood or maybe the power rushing in his veins. He couldn't tell if his family was awake downstairs, listening. Thunder or the boom of a factory rattled the room, but it would have taken the roof falling down on his head to stop him now. She tasted like cinnamon and kissed him back, deep, hungry, her tongue slipping into his mouth, but he pulled back to look at her, to see her, to watch her chest rise and fall. Her eyes were closed but they opened, slowly, her lips parted and wet. He braced her against the wall with his hips so that he could use a hand to wipe the stray powder off her cheek, moved her hair so that he could press against her neck with his lips and teeth. She moaned, softly, and he wanted her to be so, so much louder, wanted to make it so that she didn't have the option to keep quiet. He told her that he wanted her, in Romani, and even though she didn't know what he was saying she made another beautiful sound, and as his hands pushed her dress up past her thighs she said "Thomas", once and then again as he braced against her and she pulled his shirt and vest open so that she could touch him, everywhere, her nails digging into his back and his fingers into her thighs.

"Look at me," he told her, and he held her gaze until he moved his hips slowly and her eyes rolled back at the pressure like she had just done a line. She dropped her forehead to his shoulder and pressed him closer, urging him, begging him with her hands and with her voice. She sucked gently on his neck with her beautiful mouth and he groaned low, rolling his hips against her again and she reached down to grasp him over his trousers and he held her face in his hand, her skin smooth under his fingers except for the cut on her cheek and he slid his hand down to her throat and squeezed and kissed her again, softly, and he was in the process of using his free hand to pull her knickers to the side, holding her up with just his hips pressed against hers, when a voice made a sound from the doorway, which, as it turned out, they had left ajar.

"Ahem," Polly said delicately, very barely attempting to hide her smirk. Tessa whipped her head around but Tommy only sank his onto her shoulder, which her dress was hanging haphazardly off of, mentally counting to ten and forcing his fingers away from their position between her legs, so close he could feel the heat radiating from her.

"Polly," Tommy said, through gritted teeth, "What?"

"A man is here for you downstairs. Said his name was Solomons." Her lips quirked upwards as her eyes took in the scene, turning to leave, calling out, "And Tommy? Next time, close the fucking door," as she did so.

Tessa unwrapped her legs from behind his back and used the wall behind her to steady herself. She felt unsteady like she had just gotten off a boat. A very, very fast boat, that was setting off rockets and also jumping through time and space. Tommy's breath was harsh in her ear and he put his hands on either side of her head, bracing himself, trapping her in a cage of his arms and, as he pulled back, his eyes. She wanted to say something to him, but the pulsing need was still clouding her mind so completely that all she could do was pant and stare. She wanted to touch him again. She couldn't believe she wasn't still touching him, right now, this instant-

He was taking a step back, reaching up to button his shirt. She wanted to scream, and not for the reasons she would have preferred.

"Who is Solomons?" She asked, her voice shockingly steady.

"A business partner," he said, shrugging on his vest, which had somehow ended up on the floor. His lips were swollen and his hair was tousled and he had never looked better to her, not even when he was dripping in blood. She stared at him. Sighed. She could finish this by herself, but she knew it would hardly be worth it. At least now she had the great mystery of Tommy Shelby solved. Money or sex? Lust or greed? How much did he really have, she wondered as he pocketed his watch, and how many notches on the bedpost? Was it just wood chips by now? More trees made into more paper into more pounds? In the end, maybe it was all the same. She didn't try to stop him leaving.

"I'll be back," he said, a gesture that surprised her. She hummed a little, refastening her stockings so that she didn't have to look at him. Sex was one thing. It couldn't hurt, and even if it did, a little bit, that just made it better. This was more than that. She had known. The moment she had seen those eyes open in the hospital, she had known, and jumped right into it anyway. Right into him. His business partner, whoever it was, would probably think he had just interrupted a session Tommy had paid for. Like he needed to pay. She thought he probably did anyway. In the end, it was all the same. She closed her eyes and let her head thud back against the wall.

Tommy entered the living room just as the black tassels of Polly's shawl whipped around the corner behind her as she left. In her place stood Alfie Solomons, hat slightly askew, hands folded serenely over his cane as he took in the aftermath of the doomed chess game. Arthur was sprawled on the floor, pieces scattered next to him, John half on top of his legs and half folded over the nearest chair. Ada was still curled in her position by the fire, less tightly now, a blanket tucked over her shoulders.

"Solomons," Tommy said, flicking his lighter and sliding his cigarettes back into his pocket, "I am not joking when I say that this better be fucking good."

"It seems to me that whatever I tell you can't never be as good as what you was just doing," Alfie said, gesturing vaguely at Tommy's appearance, "so why don't we lower that bar a smidge, eh? Information, you know, it comes when it pleases. A bit like yourself, mate."

The unexpected joke made Tommy's lips twitch, but did not cure his irritation. Or help with the fact that he was still thinking about Tessa, pupils wide, lips parted, saying his name.

"What information?"

Arthur stirred on the floor. "Whozat?" He mumbled groggily, before slipping back into a drunken sleep. Tommy sighed.

"Come on," He waved at Alfie to follow him out of the house. "Lets give the degenerates their space."

The cane clunked behind him as he led the other man onto the silent front streets. He could feel the slight warmth of his smoke between his fingers against the cold night air.

Alfie stared up at the night sky like that composed the entire reason for his visit, to look at the coal-clouded sky above Small Heath and stop Tommy from getting a fuck.

"There's a hunter up there," he said, pointing with his cane. "Orion. Kind of a fuckin' funny name, really, but no worse than Alfred, and I'll be honest, mate, I think out of the two of us, he's got it better than me," the cane smacked the cobbled streets with a dull thunk. "Up in the sky, yeah, couldn't give a rats arse what goes on down in these shitty, smelly streets. Fucking better life, that one."

Tommy cleared his throat.

"Oh, right, you was trying to get back to your lady friend. Wonder what she'd do, if she saw everything, like that hunter up there? Wonder what she'd say," he fixed Tommy with a piercing stare, the kind most people wouldn't dream of risking. Tommy rubbed the cut above his eye, which was stinging.

"Did you come here to give me fucking relationship advice, or do you actually have some useful information?"

Alfie tutted at his manners. "As a matter of fact, I do, but you'd best watch your tone with people who you're trying to partner with. Can be very off-putting, see, make you seem untrustworthy." Tommy rolled his eyes without moving them. It was one of his talents. "So this fucking Adolf fellow, he's been trying to gather himself up a following in these here fine cities of England, yeah? Wants to stir up some political support and whatnot. So his boys snatch your lady friend's father, right, tell him he's gotta come out and support old Adolf or they'll find his only daughter and do with her as they please. Which you managed to do first, by complete accident, which is how most of your successes happen, so bravo to you on that." He sniffed. "But old Reilly was looking for protection before they got to him, wanted your Blinders, knew they wouldn't mind roughing up a couple Germans if it came down to it. And somebody heard 'im say your name. So you'd be all caught up in this even if you didn't have your cock in his daughter." He laughed, a great guffaw, as if this was the funniest situation he had ever encountered. Tommy was beginning to tire of being told things he already knew.

"And then you come to me, right, telling me about all of this like I don't already know, proposing your deals and whatnot." He adjusted his hat. "But I'm here to tell you that I 'ave decided to take you up on your offer. And I can even sweeten it for you, for a price," he said, touching the side of his nose, "because I 'ave got a man on the inside. See, that there's something you didn't know. Me, I've just been waiting to take these fuckers down cause I just don't like 'em. Fascist fucks. Now, my man don't know where old Reilly is being held, but me thinks if you get the girl in on it, well." He spread his hands, like Jesus at passover. "Your plan just might work, my friend. He can pick her up. The Germans will let 'im bring her in." He sniffed again. "Too happy about the catch to check who strung the bait."

Tommy fiddled with his cigarette. It was his plan. And he still didn't like it. "Once we locate the hostage, the Blinders can cause enough of a distraction nearby to remove most of the security. Your men are welcome to whatever we find, aside from Reilly. Coppers will be notified once Tessa is taken and will be instructed not to intervene, so choose ones who know how to shoot. Because the Germans certainly will. When can your man be in position?"

"Ah," Alfie said, staring off into the distance. "Day after tomorrow, I should think."

"Good. The Blinders will be ready." He put out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"

Alfie shook, his hands covered with thick leather gloves. "Down Orion comes from the sky," he muttered, and he walked away, back to his waiting car, tap tap tapping with his cane.