@cagedchoice sent: [PIN] - Sender pins the receiver against the wall. + but reversed. pin him against the wall pls
THERE IS AN ELECTRIC hum in the air of the alleyway behind the Garrison. The rain comes down in sheets, misting everything with grey water and creating a cacophonous din that drowns out the sounds of life in the sleepy Birmingham town. Normal noises like the children playing in the street, the men laughing inside the warm tavern, the clicking of high heels on the brick pavement, are all but forgotten. All that remains is the sound of thunder and a torrential downpour.
Thomas and Caleb had spent a pleasant enough evening drinking together. They'd bantered back and forth. Tommy had spent about as much time lying through his teeth as Caleb had. Thomas had learned what he could, gleaning information from the smallest of movements, a subtle flick of the eyes, an upturn in the corners of Caleb's mouth...
He hadn't been able to glean as much as he would have liked. Certainly not enough to ascertain whether or not Caleb is a threat or just a harmless American tourist, here to visit the dirtiest neighborhood in all of Britain. And that is reason enough for him to offer to walk Caleb out, pretending to be far more intoxicated than he actually is, and opening the double doors to the shower of grey mist outside.
Before Caleb has set both feet outside of the pub there are two men in dark suits who grip him by his biceps and drag him to the alleyway behind the Garrison. Thomas follows him calmly, lighting a cigarette by some feat of will and smoking it silently as he watches the men pat Caleb down for weapons.
Tommy draws his pistol. He cocks it. A silent threat.
"Mr. Nichols," he begins. "Who are you, really?"
