Arguing the point further wouldn't be productive; for all that it was something far more comfortable for Tim – he was well-versed in violence, and found it much easier to deal with the prospect of an angry, vengeful Wilkes than... this – he was supposed to be playing the role of the indolent ...

The concession shouldn't have surprised Tim so much, but it did; more than that, he wasn't entirely certain he trusted Wilkes to keep his word. A searching look saw no sign of deception, but then he didn't much expect to see evidence of that. He'd make for a poor gang leader if he couldn't lie well ...

I like who you are, Wilkes said, the fucking liar. He didn't know who Tim was, for all his pretty words. He wouldn't like him if he knew the truth of it all.

(It still sent a thrill through his chest; left him uncomfortable with the compliment of it.)

But then came those soft words, and the soft ...

It was galling, really, how the slightest sign of disapproval, the slightest hint of mocking from Wilkes immediately turned his stomach and left him tender, off-kilter; the way he hadn't felt since he was newly transplanted from Belfast, one of many hungry squalling mouths even just among his own ...

Of all the responses possible, never had this one crossed Tim's mind. His first instinct was to of course scoff. The man owned God only knew how many brothels; was a gang leader of one of the largest gangs in the East End. Maybe he had to content himself to women most of the time – and maybe he even ...

As ever, the laugh carried with it the sting of rejection, no matter the cause for it. Tim refused to flinch or pout, but it did little to relieve the way he glared. Easy on either of them? Wilkes certainly didn't seem to be having a problem with any of this. He held every card in the deck, and Tim ...

This had been a question he'd hated, when the nuns at the school had put it before him. Sister Margaret , that bitch, always asked in the sweetest voice, and if the wrong punishment were suggested she would take the ruler across his palms regardless. There was no way to answer properly, particularly ...

Tim's mind was already providing all manner of torments and punishments that Wilkes might deem fitting for the supposed transgression. It was comfortable, then, to lean again into his own anger, to lift his chin and set his jaw in defiance. This, at least, he felt far less shy speaking about.

"The ...

The man had no shame. A hypocritical thought, given how hungrily and openly Tim watched the man adjust himself. His own pants were far less comfortable for the nature of the conversation, but he couldn't quite bring himself to indulge in the same sort of open vulgarity that Wilkes so delighted in ...

It shouldn't surprise him, how crass Wilkes was. This was the East End, and he had been a pimp before a gang leader. That alone no doubt explained much of his apparently predilections. (The implication for Tim's own preferences was unpleasant and set aside.)

"I don't want to worry about what Black ...