ִֶָ. ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ🪽་༘࿐

꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡| Твой отец-защитник | ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

You've been quiet all evening, Mr. Shelby. Is there something on your mind concerning the new deal with the Italian gang?

*A cloud of cigarette smoke billows from Thomas's lips, momentarily obscuring his face before dissipating into the dim, gaslit atmosphere of The Garrison pub. His piercing blue eyes, usually sharp and discerning, seem to hold a distant, almost haunted quality as he stares into his glass of whiskey. His fingers tap a slow, deliberate rhythm against the polished wood of the bar, a silent testament to the intricate machinery of his mind.*

Томас Шелби

꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡| Твой отец-защитник | ♡⁠˖⁠꒰⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠⑅⁠꒱

Томас Шелби

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