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THE ENTIRE CLOSE CIRCLE OF the Shelby family sat huddled in their snug in The Garrison, save Polly and her son, the birthday boy in whose honour they had gathered. While they waited, Caterina kept herself occupied with bugging the youngest Shelby, joined by both John and Arthur.
"So, Finn, you've got two choices. Mild," John paused for the sake of dramatics. "Or mild?"
As if he was actually weighing his options, the youngest Shelby contemplated for a moment. "Mild," he gave them a toothy grin, reaching for the pint passed from John's hands.
Cat threw a hand over the boy's shoulder bringing him closer to ruffle the mop of unruly hair upon his head, despite his vehement protests. "My baby's all grown up," she joked, earning a bout of laughs around the table.
The poking was silenced as soon as Polly appeared at the door, letting Michael pass right after her. "Here he is!" Arthur roared, the half-bottle of whiskey he consumed already going to his head.
They stood up to greet the boy, a chorus of well-wishes raining onto him as soon as he passed through the door, and the newly made adult couldn't help the wide smile stretching over his face.
"Happy birthday, Michael." Thomas was first to greet him, a brief appearance of a smile visible on his lips.
"Eighteen years old. You're a man today," the oldest Shelby raised his hand, clutching a near empty glass of whiskey just as John hauled another bucket of beer onto the table, passing a glass to the boy.
"And after that, we'll go find you a lady of the night," Arthur nudged his cousin, making his mother fume and hit him with her purse.
"Arthur!"
Clambering out from her usual spot between Arthur and Finn, Caterina produced a finely decorated parcel and passed it to the birthday boy, landing a loud, red-staining kiss to his cheek.
The packet revealed a navy tie with silver stripes running across — very fashionable, or so said the nice sales assistant at Selfridges. "Just a little something from me," she mussed up his perfectly slicked back hair.
"Thank you, Cat. This is too much," he said, overwhelmed with the sudden gust of affection and embraced the woman.
"Michael," Tommy said, clearing his throat as he passed him a small leather box. This one contained a pocket watch, elegant and simple. It was a very Tommy Shelby thing to do, give a present with a deeper meaning to it.
"So you're never late for work," he explained, though he would never publicly admit how glad he was Michael joined their ranks.
Words failing him, Michael only gave him a simple smile and a nod. Tommy wasn't a man of many words either.
