( a visit to a museum is a search for beauty, truth, and meaning in our lives. )
in the G R E E K / R O M A N section - you are strangers who happen upon each other at the museum. what do you talk about? is it a debate about art or pure smalltalk? will you want to meet again?
a stop at the C A F E - all that wandering around art and history has made you hungry. how's the food here, dull or delicious? sit down and have a talk or see if you can smuggle a snack with you into the next exhibit without getting caught!
special E X H I B I T on the first floor - you've arranged to meet here! is it a romantic date or just a bit of a good time with friends or family? are you fascinated by what you see or already bored before you get started? under any circumstances, enjoy your outing together!
T O U R this way, follow along - you've signed up for the tour! are you alone or with someone? do you ask questions with interest or hang back and whisper among yourselves? are you actually more interested in your phone? do you maybe get lost on the way?
before "W O M A N with black S T O C K I N G S" - these paintings are rather raunchy and you're both suddenly feeling like a little round of public sex. well, this is your chance! who will see you behind that statue, that column or in that corner anyway?
E X I T, emergency only - is there a scenario that hasn't been covered or something else you'd like to do at the museum? this is your option!
How to play -
1. Comment with your character's name, fandom and preferences in the subject line.
2. Others comment to your top level with an option for a scenario and either leave a starter or ask you to start the scene.
[He reads the reply in her expression, sucking his teeth and nodding. His own nerves have sunk straight to his stomach, like they always do. It's nothing he can't ignore. He doesn't feel anything as strongly as he should, or as strongly as he'd have to for his family to stop complaining about his apathy. There's a numbness, a detachment. He doesn't think of it as a sickness, not while it's practical and keeps him productive. What he feels for Grace is fully felt, which seems a heavy burden for their already-fraught bond.
This is not the first time she's promised to come back. It would be easier to believe without the millstone of history and heredity weighing on him. His love has never been enough to hold anyone in the world, let alone in his life. Their fingers brush as he reaches to take her will-be address. He rubs the paper, thinking of the tenuous connection it makes between them. She wants him to know where she'll be. It should reassure him.]
I'll write to you.
[He's had a busy day already and he'll have a busier life going forward, but not too busy to do that. It's Black Star Day, she'd know without him mentioning. The outcome isn't relevant to this conversation. Grace can assume a lot from the fact he showed up. If it were going poorly, he'd be in no position to meet anyone. It's best if everything surrounding that plan and this one unfolds in quick succession, so that the chief inspector won't know which way to look.]
There's a gun we never buried. If you agree, I'll give it to the man who'll confess and it'll lend credence to his story, as well as yours.
[Grace looks especially pretty here, well-dressed as she is, someplace clean and bright. He's almost jealous that Campbell's seen her like this more often than he has. It's a small and petty thought, given that there's much more Tommy's seen that the inspector would be jealous of. Her worry is not unfounded. It's understood that if Grace is found to have toppled from the little pedestal in the inspector's mind, no gentlemanly code of conduct will govern Campbell's reaction. Tommy will do what he can to lessen the danger. He frowns at the reminder.]
Suppose you're offered a permanent posting, or that these superiors have another mission for you. What then?
[He doubts she'll be decorated or lauded the way they would with Campbell, but they might be closer to recognising what they have in her. It's a hypothetical rooted in his own experience of service to king and country.]
[The prospect of him writing her does make her smile, if only fleetingly. She hopes it's in his own hand and not a typewriter, because she knows she'll miss him, but she's not about to make it a request. Her smile freezes before falling off her face completely when he tells her there's a gun separate from the rest. Of course. He's too clever to have buried them all. Tommy Shelby is always thinking several moves ahead of the rest and it's both inspiring and infuriating.]
All right.
[It's pointless to ask if Tommy's sure this man will keep to the role he's meant to play. Whatever he'd face at Tommy's hand is likely much worse than what he'd suffer with the authorities. If it's the noose, at least it's quicker than losing your eyes or your family or something like that. Grace's jaw flexes as she pushes that thought down. She doesn't love that part of this plan, but it's what they have, and it will benefit them all.]
Once they have the guns and their man, I'll resign. I don't want this life. [She's not very good at it. Finding the information, yes, but she's fallen in love, too.] This was only ever supposed to be temporary. No promotion will convince me otherwise.
[So she can rest assured she won't be tempted. She'll be the rich girl that went into the muck and was the hero instead of the incompetent inspector. That's all. A funny story to share.]
And what about you? Your family? What will they think when another man takes the fall for the guns?
[It wouldn't make Grace feel any better to learn the particulars of her countryman bound for the noose. Some Paddy with a debt he could never hope to repay whose family will take the lion's share of the widows' fund. Men have died in worse ways for a lot less. Tommy aspires to have the courage to recognise when his death is worth more to the people he cares about than his life. Anyway, he doesn't have much sleep left to lose over things like coercing a false confession.]
We're the third largest legal racetrack operation in the country. [They're more legitimate today than they were yesterday.] What business do we have with stolen guns? My family won't think of it.
[They never wanted any part of the theft, he'd remind her. They were never guilty. Tommy thinks Grace forgets sometimes that he's the worst of them. If he'd listened to his aunt, he'd have got shot of the guns much sooner. His family are going to think he finally did the sensible thing and gave up all hope of profiting from a mistake. Whoever else suffers, it won't be their fault, only his.
Grace has no trouble saying what she doesn't want for herself. He spends a moment trying to piece together what she does want, and how he might fit in. For what it's worth, he can picture her at family meetings, as furious with him as the rest of them.]
[It's hard to remember he's the worst of them with the night they've shared so fresh in her memory. She wants to be greedy and risk it all and stay right where she is, right now, but her brain reminds her heart that she could lose everything, permanently, if she's not careful. Best she leave for now and come back when Tommy deems it safe.
She watches him, not reading his thoughts, but voicing her own question. It just happens to align.]
And what happens when I come back?
[Whenever that may be.]
My room's paid up for the next two months.
[There she was, wrestling more money out of him for a pretty dress when she's had enough for a proper gown all along. It'd be funny if she wasn't concerned, brow creasing as she speaks.]
I hope to be back sooner, but I need to know the risk is worth it, Tommy. Will you be here?
[She knows he has enough sense to know that she doesn't mean physically. Birmingham is his home. She can't imagine him anywhere else. But even a month away is a longer span of time than they've even known one another. Tommy hadn't wanted anyone until her, but she's asking for fidelity when he's only known the truth of her for the blink of an eye.]
[He doesn't bat an eyelid when she says her room's paid up for two months. It really is a surfeit. It's not what people do in Small Heath, but she doesn't surprise him. He doesn't raise a brow because he already knew. He has everything still to learn about her, but this is not the type of thing she has to tell him. Didn't she think he'd check with her landlord, after the first time he walked her home? Tommy Shelby, inquiring bastard, leaves no stone unturned. If he'd been born in different circumstances, he'd have made a good investigator himself. Pity that clue didn't give away anything he couldn't already tell about her.
It was never a question of what either of them could afford. Grace was brave enough to ask things of him, and he liked her better for asking. He likes to be the source of money and favours. He leads a dishonest life, but he wants to feel he's as good as his word, and that people know it. He wants to be reliable. If she never really needed more money, that doesn't embarrass him. They got to test each other's mettle with those low-stakes negotiations, didn't they?
She has some fucking cheek, standing right where she gave him away and expecting him to swear anything to her. Somehow it's his loyalty in question, even when they're in the place where she told his business to the police. He breathes an short, incredulous sound.
Will you be here?]
At the museum? No.
[Tommy has some vicious comic timing, so insensitive to a woman's feelings, and for what? A dry joke that doesn't even make him smile. But he knows what she means. It's part and parcel of the question about what happens when she gets back. His footfalls are loud in the cavernous room as he moves to stand right in front of her.]
You have a contract of employment with a real Limited Company.
[That's not going to work, he realises as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He sighs. If she watches closely, she'll see him sloughing out of his protective armour. His posture softens, so does the look in his eyes.
He reaches for her left hand, lifting it up and drawing a line across her palm with the pad of his thumb.]
When you come back, we'll make a little cut on your hand, just here. On mine, the same. [He clasps hers tight.] Hold them together like this. Then it's you and me.
[She might know what he means, she might not. He's prepared for both eventualities. Grace is the only one who can answer whether it's worth it to love him. Tommy's sure it isn't, but he's not a good enough man to warn her away from him when she's what he wants.]
[She's not very amused to get a quip instead of an answer. Not for this question, at least. Her eyes narrow a fraction at him, annoyance more readily shown now that she doesn't have to tread as carefully around him as she once did. Oh, she was herself more than she'd like, but she was mindful of the man. When he moves, she glances aside to make sure there's no one near. How lucky they are to be alone with the ghosts of artists dead and buried.
She'll have her work. A barmaid and a secretary. She wonders if it'll make her happy. Content, to work for the man she loves. The bartending was fine enough--she enjoyed the singing, the conversing. And she does like running numbers when she's not trying to find information on missing guns. Putting things in order and keeping them in check come naturally to her, but she imagines her role will need some altering once she comes back from New York.
When he takes her hand she watches him closely, and when their hands clasp together she can't help but curl her fingers around his. She doesn't quite smile, but there's something there in the light of her eyes.]
Is that what your people do?
[Blood vows. It's not entirely foreign to her, Celtic roots and old marriage vows somehow there in some corner of her mind. Irish blood runs deep, keeping toasts and vows safe all the same, and she recites one quietly between them.]
I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine.
[This is what this is. The truth, their spun story to hand over the guns. Then it's you and me are perhaps the sweetest words he's ever said to her, and now she does allow herself to smile.]
But you do know I'll want to be asked properly before you come at my hand with a knife, Thomas Shelby?
[Even briefly, he didn't mean for her to get the impression that work is all she would have. It was just a thing to say. A paltry reason to come back when what she really needs is for him to bare his heart. Her role will need altering when she returns from New York, but not in the way she might think. She can have her pick of the work that needs doing. He'll keep her secret for as long as it needs to be kept, and no one will question whether she should be allowed near the books. She won't be a lady of leisure, though he's not sure she wants to be. She strikes him as too aware and observant to stay out of a task when she can see it's being mismanaged.
When she asks if it's what his people do, he almost dissembles. He's never ashamed, but he is wary of being identified and primed to reject curiosity. My people, such as they are, he could say. It isn't always the case that he feels he belongs to them, or they to him. It doesn't have to matter what they do. He offers it to her, because it's part of him, yet he doesn't require it of her. He wants to be married to Grace far more than he wants to marry in any faith or tradition. He just blinks slow and shrugs the most indifferent confirmation possible.
But she understands they're talking about marriage, and nothing she's said sounds like her refusing him. He'd already likened the museum to a church, and now it might as well be. They're facing each other, hand in hand, bound by her vow. And the vow suits them well. He doesn't let go. His hand's rougher than hers, but warm. They were making love the last time he looked at her like this.
He made it sound like a certain thing. That was his mistake. She upbraids him lightly, over a smile, and it makes him smile in return, then purse his lips and nod with a momentary resemblance to a scolded boy.]
I do know that.
[It means he'll have the time she's away to find a ring and decide what to say when he asks properly. She has a way of making him feel defenceless and stronger than ever in the same moment. He looks at her fondly. It's a fondness now familiar to them both, exchanged as freely as they kiss when they're alone. If she still doubts his fidelity, there is one thing he could say. He swallows thickly and lowers his voice.]
[Grace had told herself he never needed to say the words because she felt them whenever he looked at her so openly, so fondly. There was no mistaking the look of love in his eyes. But to hear it said still grips her tightly, and she smiles wider with a small laugh, feeling like a schoolgirl whose crush has acknowledged her for the first time. Quite embarrassing, for a woman who quite likes being a grown woman and far removed from such silliness. Oh, but maybe they both make one another a little younger, a little less worn. It's not the worst to bring out in one another.
The words settle comfortably in her chest and she savors that feeling until she thinks he deserves to hear it in return. She's told him she loves him, but it's a different thing to be reaffirmed in it.]
I love you, too.
[Her free hand wipes at her eye. She's not crying. Perhaps a little misty-eyed, and a little choked up, but no tears fall. Just being sure.]
You're making it hard for me to leave, Tommy. I can scarcely imagine leaving this museum.
[These quiet, intimate moments between them are ones she'd live in forever if she could. Every time they pass, every time they part, she worries she might have experienced the last of them. She doubts his love is fleeting or fickle--quite the opposite--but it's a worry that something will suddenly uproot all of this, somehow.]
I'll miss you.
[A given, but another thing she wants him to hear.]
[It wasn't in the hope of being laughed at that he told Grace he loved her, but she laughs so joyfully that he can't begrudge her. He knows better than to think she's laughing for a reason that should earn his ire. He might forgive her, anyway, even if she did. She's radiant when she smiles.
He watches the gamut of her reaction, chalking it up to the infinite mystery and complexity of womanhood. It wasn't clear to him how much it means to have love reaffirmed. He's suddenly sorry for not saying it back, those other times when she said it first.
He pulls their joined hands in, nearer their bodies, meaning to leave her hand on his chest when he finally lets go. She's rested her hand over his heart enough times herself, and he likes it. He brushes her cheek with the backs of his knuckles, utterly remorseless about making it harder to leave.]
Good. I hate partings.
[There's no great fondness in him for reunions either, so he likes to think they'll be able to pick up right where they left off, as though it's been no time at all. She needn't remind him that she has to leave, or why. He knows. The inspector is altogether too easy to picture loitering smugly in this very room, even without invoking his name.
Tommy's not sure if I'll miss you wants reaffirming too. He leans in for a kiss instead, a quick one, mindful of themselves and any approach.]
[Naturally, her hand does come to rest over his heart. She likes it, too. She might not be able to feel his heartbeat under the layers of his suit, but she knows it's there, and she knows his heart is hers. Grace tips her head into his touch, just as she leans into the kiss, albeit briefly. They are in public, after all. But her hand remains on his chest.]
Then let this be the first and last parting between us.
[In the meantime, she has a small gift for him. Her other hand slips into her coat pocket, where she pull out a small, corked vial, the small amount of liquid in it a golden amber.]
I don't have much in the way of keepsakes, but I thought you might like to have some of my perfume.
[Not worn every day, but often enough for him to know the subtle scent. It lingers on her skin between washing, and it was there when they made love. She feels a bit silly offering it to him, but. Perhaps before his confession of love she'd wanted to be sure she wouldn't be forgotten. Her emotions are floating left and right and up and down, and she shakes her head with another small laugh, embarrassed. He's not a man going off to war. She's the one leaving, and only for a little while.]
[Their first and last parting. It sounds like another toast, another vow, or a curse or a blessing. His ambition leaves no hope of his life becoming less violent in the near future. He's not sure he can countenance taking the same risks with her by his side as he would without. But that's a consideration for when, or indeed if, she returns.
During their time apart she might awaken to who and what he really is, and decide she wants nothing more to do with him. It wouldn't even have to mean a falling out of love, merely coming to her senses and using the better judgment he knows she has.
But she's not gone yet. She's still here, bearing a gift. He wants to take Grace into his arms. He wants to do things to her that they can't do in public. He might be thinking it loudly, such that she could see it in his eyes.
He knows the scent would be very recognisably hers. He remembers it well. It's a light fragrance, floral he thinks, though he couldn't name the flower. He'd been meaning to ask her about it, to file that information quietly away. It was overpowered at the pub, if she wore it there at all. He first became aware of it when he took her to the races. It's never left his mind completely since. He swallows, feeling his throat constrict a little with emotion better unexpressed.]
No, you're not ridiculous.
[The gift isn't, at any rate. She might be, for thinking anyone could forget her in the space of a few months. He holds his hand out, palm upturned, for her to place the vial in. He already has a plan for it. He'll pull the cork for a minute or so when he goes to bed and hope it's enough to let him dream of her.]
I was thinking how I'd have to get by without you. One less thing to do without, now.
[It isn't quite as good as when the perfume is on her very skin, or when it's in the air to signify that she's just left or entered the room. It's a good keepsake nonetheless.]
[He likes her little gift. Grace can't help but smile, drawing no attention to what she sees in his eyes besides taking a half-step closer. Too close to be standing together in a museum, but they might as well be the only two people in the place. One hand on his chest still, the other presses the vial into his palm, closing his fingers over it. There, she lets her own remain, giving his hand a squeeze.]
I'll miss yours.
[He doesn't sing, but she's grown used to that Birmingham accent and the way it rolls so smoothly out of his chest. Most of all she'll miss him and those smiles she can coax out of him, but Grace doesn't make it a point to draw attention to it, worried she might scare them away as if he doesn't realize he does it. She's already looking forward to the smile that will greet her when she returns.
No need to dwell on the time until then.]
Now, how am I going to get by without you? I take it you didn't bring me anything.
[It wasn't expected, and so she's only daring to tease him, evident with the exaggerated lift of her brows. There's no forgetting Tommy Shelby, especially after what they've experienced together.]
[When she goes, she'll be taking his heart with her. It can't be helped. She's entrusted with the part of him that still feels and loves like any ordinary man. That's gone forever if she doesn't return. His eyes rove over her face, drinking in every detail, as though he hasn't already committed it all to memory.
Grace is only teasing him, and only because she knows for a fact that he's capable of playing along. He wouldn't want to discourage her from trying. He can take a joke, sometimes, but he's equally capable of being humourless and rendering himself less fun to be around. There are those times he's morose and pragmatic enough to bring the mood down. He winces visibly for about half a second, then frowns and shakes his head.]
I don't have anything for you.
[That's the problem, isn't it? He wants to have more to offer. She deserves everything, and there are still many obstacles to overcome before he'll be able to give her that. In the meantime, there isn't much he considers unequivocally his rather than theirs. And that aside, there's still the least of his concerns: although a keepsake needn't have any material value, it's beyond him to imagine what might be sentimental to her. It stings him to think along these lines, and that's neither Grace's fault nor was it her intention, but on the other hand, small pains like this light the fire under him. He's not so easily defeated. He can speak with absolute conviction. If she hasn't already, she'll realise he's not talking about some little token to tide them over in their separation.]
[Grace can see the wheels turning. She only meant to tease, not make him worry over not having enough for her, or whatever the exact phrasing his mind uses with himself. It breaks her heart. Grace takes the lapels of his coat in her hands, holding them tightly and looking at him, wishing he'd understand something very simple.]
You're enough.
[If he wasn't, she wouldn't be promising to come back.]
I just need you here, Tommy.
[The worst thing he could do is change his mind in the time she's gone. They can figure out the rest later.]
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jamjarring2019-12-17 03:31 pm
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This is not the first time she's promised to come back. It would be easier to believe without the millstone of history and heredity weighing on him. His love has never been enough to hold anyone in the world, let alone in his life. Their fingers brush as he reaches to take her will-be address. He rubs the paper, thinking of the tenuous connection it makes between them. She wants him to know where she'll be. It should reassure him.]
I'll write to you.
[He's had a busy day already and he'll have a busier life going forward, but not too busy to do that. It's Black Star Day, she'd know without him mentioning. The outcome isn't relevant to this conversation. Grace can assume a lot from the fact he showed up. If it were going poorly, he'd be in no position to meet anyone. It's best if everything surrounding that plan and this one unfolds in quick succession, so that the chief inspector won't know which way to look.]
There's a gun we never buried. If you agree, I'll give it to the man who'll confess and it'll lend credence to his story, as well as yours.
[Grace looks especially pretty here, well-dressed as she is, someplace clean and bright. He's almost jealous that Campbell's seen her like this more often than he has. It's a small and petty thought, given that there's much more Tommy's seen that the inspector would be jealous of. Her worry is not unfounded. It's understood that if Grace is found to have toppled from the little pedestal in the inspector's mind, no gentlemanly code of conduct will govern Campbell's reaction. Tommy will do what he can to lessen the danger. He frowns at the reminder.]
Suppose you're offered a permanent posting, or that these superiors have another mission for you. What then?
[He doubts she'll be decorated or lauded the way they would with Campbell, but they might be closer to recognising what they have in her. It's a hypothetical rooted in his own experience of service to king and country.]
no subject
All right.
[It's pointless to ask if Tommy's sure this man will keep to the role he's meant to play. Whatever he'd face at Tommy's hand is likely much worse than what he'd suffer with the authorities. If it's the noose, at least it's quicker than losing your eyes or your family or something like that. Grace's jaw flexes as she pushes that thought down. She doesn't love that part of this plan, but it's what they have, and it will benefit them all.]
Once they have the guns and their man, I'll resign. I don't want this life. [She's not very good at it. Finding the information, yes, but she's fallen in love, too.] This was only ever supposed to be temporary. No promotion will convince me otherwise.
[So she can rest assured she won't be tempted. She'll be the rich girl that went into the muck and was the hero instead of the incompetent inspector. That's all. A funny story to share.]
And what about you? Your family? What will they think when another man takes the fall for the guns?
no subject
We're the third largest legal racetrack operation in the country. [They're more legitimate today than they were yesterday.] What business do we have with stolen guns? My family won't think of it.
[They never wanted any part of the theft, he'd remind her. They were never guilty. Tommy thinks Grace forgets sometimes that he's the worst of them. If he'd listened to his aunt, he'd have got shot of the guns much sooner. His family are going to think he finally did the sensible thing and gave up all hope of profiting from a mistake. Whoever else suffers, it won't be their fault, only his.
Grace has no trouble saying what she doesn't want for herself. He spends a moment trying to piece together what she does want, and how he might fit in. For what it's worth, he can picture her at family meetings, as furious with him as the rest of them.]
no subject
She watches him, not reading his thoughts, but voicing her own question. It just happens to align.]
And what happens when I come back?
[Whenever that may be.]
My room's paid up for the next two months.
[There she was, wrestling more money out of him for a pretty dress when she's had enough for a proper gown all along. It'd be funny if she wasn't concerned, brow creasing as she speaks.]
I hope to be back sooner, but I need to know the risk is worth it, Tommy. Will you be here?
[She knows he has enough sense to know that she doesn't mean physically. Birmingham is his home. She can't imagine him anywhere else. But even a month away is a longer span of time than they've even known one another. Tommy hadn't wanted anyone until her, but she's asking for fidelity when he's only known the truth of her for the blink of an eye.]
no subject
It was never a question of what either of them could afford. Grace was brave enough to ask things of him, and he liked her better for asking. He likes to be the source of money and favours. He leads a dishonest life, but he wants to feel he's as good as his word, and that people know it. He wants to be reliable. If she never really needed more money, that doesn't embarrass him. They got to test each other's mettle with those low-stakes negotiations, didn't they?
She has some fucking cheek, standing right where she gave him away and expecting him to swear anything to her. Somehow it's his loyalty in question, even when they're in the place where she told his business to the police. He breathes an short, incredulous sound.
Will you be here?]
At the museum? No.
[Tommy has some vicious comic timing, so insensitive to a woman's feelings, and for what? A dry joke that doesn't even make him smile. But he knows what she means. It's part and parcel of the question about what happens when she gets back. His footfalls are loud in the cavernous room as he moves to stand right in front of her.]
You have a contract of employment with a real Limited Company.
[That's not going to work, he realises as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He sighs. If she watches closely, she'll see him sloughing out of his protective armour. His posture softens, so does the look in his eyes.
He reaches for her left hand, lifting it up and drawing a line across her palm with the pad of his thumb.]
When you come back, we'll make a little cut on your hand, just here. On mine, the same. [He clasps hers tight.] Hold them together like this. Then it's you and me.
[She might know what he means, she might not. He's prepared for both eventualities. Grace is the only one who can answer whether it's worth it to love him. Tommy's sure it isn't, but he's not a good enough man to warn her away from him when she's what he wants.]
no subject
She'll have her work. A barmaid and a secretary. She wonders if it'll make her happy. Content, to work for the man she loves. The bartending was fine enough--she enjoyed the singing, the conversing. And she does like running numbers when she's not trying to find information on missing guns. Putting things in order and keeping them in check come naturally to her, but she imagines her role will need some altering once she comes back from New York.
When he takes her hand she watches him closely, and when their hands clasp together she can't help but curl her fingers around his. She doesn't quite smile, but there's something there in the light of her eyes.]
Is that what your people do?
[Blood vows. It's not entirely foreign to her, Celtic roots and old marriage vows somehow there in some corner of her mind. Irish blood runs deep, keeping toasts and vows safe all the same, and she recites one quietly between them.]
I shall be a shield for your back as you are for mine.
[This is what this is. The truth, their spun story to hand over the guns. Then it's you and me are perhaps the sweetest words he's ever said to her, and now she does allow herself to smile.]
But you do know I'll want to be asked properly before you come at my hand with a knife, Thomas Shelby?
[If he didn't, now he does.]
no subject
When she asks if it's what his people do, he almost dissembles. He's never ashamed, but he is wary of being identified and primed to reject curiosity. My people, such as they are, he could say. It isn't always the case that he feels he belongs to them, or they to him. It doesn't have to matter what they do. He offers it to her, because it's part of him, yet he doesn't require it of her. He wants to be married to Grace far more than he wants to marry in any faith or tradition. He just blinks slow and shrugs the most indifferent confirmation possible.
But she understands they're talking about marriage, and nothing she's said sounds like her refusing him. He'd already likened the museum to a church, and now it might as well be. They're facing each other, hand in hand, bound by her vow. And the vow suits them well. He doesn't let go. His hand's rougher than hers, but warm. They were making love the last time he looked at her like this.
He made it sound like a certain thing. That was his mistake. She upbraids him lightly, over a smile, and it makes him smile in return, then purse his lips and nod with a momentary resemblance to a scolded boy.]
I do know that.
[It means he'll have the time she's away to find a ring and decide what to say when he asks properly. She has a way of making him feel defenceless and stronger than ever in the same moment. He looks at her fondly. It's a fondness now familiar to them both, exchanged as freely as they kiss when they're alone. If she still doubts his fidelity, there is one thing he could say. He swallows thickly and lowers his voice.]
I love you.
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The words settle comfortably in her chest and she savors that feeling until she thinks he deserves to hear it in return. She's told him she loves him, but it's a different thing to be reaffirmed in it.]
I love you, too.
[Her free hand wipes at her eye. She's not crying. Perhaps a little misty-eyed, and a little choked up, but no tears fall. Just being sure.]
You're making it hard for me to leave, Tommy. I can scarcely imagine leaving this museum.
[These quiet, intimate moments between them are ones she'd live in forever if she could. Every time they pass, every time they part, she worries she might have experienced the last of them. She doubts his love is fleeting or fickle--quite the opposite--but it's a worry that something will suddenly uproot all of this, somehow.]
I'll miss you.
[A given, but another thing she wants him to hear.]
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He watches the gamut of her reaction, chalking it up to the infinite mystery and complexity of womanhood. It wasn't clear to him how much it means to have love reaffirmed. He's suddenly sorry for not saying it back, those other times when she said it first.
He pulls their joined hands in, nearer their bodies, meaning to leave her hand on his chest when he finally lets go. She's rested her hand over his heart enough times herself, and he likes it. He brushes her cheek with the backs of his knuckles, utterly remorseless about making it harder to leave.]
Good. I hate partings.
[There's no great fondness in him for reunions either, so he likes to think they'll be able to pick up right where they left off, as though it's been no time at all. She needn't remind him that she has to leave, or why. He knows. The inspector is altogether too easy to picture loitering smugly in this very room, even without invoking his name.
Tommy's not sure if I'll miss you wants reaffirming too. He leans in for a kiss instead, a quick one, mindful of themselves and any approach.]
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Then let this be the first and last parting between us.
[In the meantime, she has a small gift for him. Her other hand slips into her coat pocket, where she pull out a small, corked vial, the small amount of liquid in it a golden amber.]
I don't have much in the way of keepsakes, but I thought you might like to have some of my perfume.
[Not worn every day, but often enough for him to know the subtle scent. It lingers on her skin between washing, and it was there when they made love. She feels a bit silly offering it to him, but. Perhaps before his confession of love she'd wanted to be sure she wouldn't be forgotten. Her emotions are floating left and right and up and down, and she shakes her head with another small laugh, embarrassed. He's not a man going off to war. She's the one leaving, and only for a little while.]
Am I ridiculous?
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During their time apart she might awaken to who and what he really is, and decide she wants nothing more to do with him. It wouldn't even have to mean a falling out of love, merely coming to her senses and using the better judgment he knows she has.
But she's not gone yet. She's still here, bearing a gift. He wants to take Grace into his arms. He wants to do things to her that they can't do in public. He might be thinking it loudly, such that she could see it in his eyes.
He knows the scent would be very recognisably hers. He remembers it well. It's a light fragrance, floral he thinks, though he couldn't name the flower. He'd been meaning to ask her about it, to file that information quietly away. It was overpowered at the pub, if she wore it there at all. He first became aware of it when he took her to the races. It's never left his mind completely since. He swallows, feeling his throat constrict a little with emotion better unexpressed.]
No, you're not ridiculous.
[The gift isn't, at any rate. She might be, for thinking anyone could forget her in the space of a few months. He holds his hand out, palm upturned, for her to place the vial in. He already has a plan for it. He'll pull the cork for a minute or so when he goes to bed and hope it's enough to let him dream of her.]
I was thinking how I'd have to get by without you. One less thing to do without, now.
[It isn't quite as good as when the perfume is on her very skin, or when it's in the air to signify that she's just left or entered the room. It's a good keepsake nonetheless.]
I'll miss your voice, but that you can't bottle.
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I'll miss yours.
[He doesn't sing, but she's grown used to that Birmingham accent and the way it rolls so smoothly out of his chest. Most of all she'll miss him and those smiles she can coax out of him, but Grace doesn't make it a point to draw attention to it, worried she might scare them away as if he doesn't realize he does it. She's already looking forward to the smile that will greet her when she returns.
No need to dwell on the time until then.]
Now, how am I going to get by without you? I take it you didn't bring me anything.
[It wasn't expected, and so she's only daring to tease him, evident with the exaggerated lift of her brows. There's no forgetting Tommy Shelby, especially after what they've experienced together.]
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Grace is only teasing him, and only because she knows for a fact that he's capable of playing along. He wouldn't want to discourage her from trying. He can take a joke, sometimes, but he's equally capable of being humourless and rendering himself less fun to be around. There are those times he's morose and pragmatic enough to bring the mood down. He winces visibly for about half a second, then frowns and shakes his head.]
I don't have anything for you.
[That's the problem, isn't it? He wants to have more to offer. She deserves everything, and there are still many obstacles to overcome before he'll be able to give her that. In the meantime, there isn't much he considers unequivocally his rather than theirs. And that aside, there's still the least of his concerns: although a keepsake needn't have any material value, it's beyond him to imagine what might be sentimental to her. It stings him to think along these lines, and that's neither Grace's fault nor was it her intention, but on the other hand, small pains like this light the fire under him. He's not so easily defeated. He can speak with absolute conviction. If she hasn't already, she'll realise he's not talking about some little token to tide them over in their separation.]
But I will, and it's not far off. I swear I will.
<3!
You're enough.
[If he wasn't, she wouldn't be promising to come back.]
I just need you here, Tommy.
[The worst thing he could do is change his mind in the time she's gone. They can figure out the rest later.]