Grace Burgess

— She {Ada} said you keep everything locked up.
— Well, that's what men do.
— Your sister's nice. I like her. It can't be easy for her. Her brother and her husband, fighting over the same thing. Men should talk, too.

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Peaky Blinders

Season 1

— I don't hear the shovels against the wall... Will you help me?
— Help you with what?
— With everything. The whole fucking thing. Fucking life. Business. I found you. And you found me. We'll help each other.

When Thomas was with Grace for the first time, he didn't have nightmares about the war.

The work's all done, Tommy. It's all done. We can walk away from all of this. It's so easy and so soft. Such a small change.

— People look different at home.
— In what way?
— Off guard.

— So am I right? Did you fall for Tommy?
— Yes, I did.
— Then I pity you.
— You think he'll try to kill me?
— That's too soft.
— Soft?
— Soft. You saved his life the night the coppers came. That's why we're drinking, not fighting. We owe you.
— What was he like? Before France?
— He laughed. A lot. He wanted to work with horses.
— He won medals?
— Threw them in the cut. Not a single man came back the same. You know, after all this is over, he might forgive you. He might take you in. Can never tell with men. They go for whoever their dicks point at and there's no changing their minds. But I should tell you something. I will never forgive you. Or accept you. Or take you in. And that's me who runs the business of the heart in this family. And as far as I'm concerned, you're a snitch from the parish.

— Tommy knows who I am. What did you say to him? What did you say to him?!
— I told him... That his heart would be broken before the day was over. So it seems... You've broken two hearts, Grace.
— As well as my own.

— I lit a fire in the bedroom upstairs. My plan was that we'd sit here for a while, talk about old times, drink some whisky. And I was gonna tell you I hadn't spent a day without thinking about you. And then we were gonna go upstairs and sleep together. But just now on the way to opening the door, I changed me mind. So just have one drink, tell me how happy you are in New York and then you can go. <...>
— So what makes you think that I would have gone to bed with you after one whisky and some conversation?
— I was accounting for three whiskys.
— How dare you?
— It doesn't matter now, 'cause I've changed me mind.
— I came here because you asked me.
— Even though he's sweet and he's kind to you?
— And now I feel like an idiot.
— Well, then, go.
— Jesus.
— Well, you're still here.
— Are you so certain?
— That you're still in love with me? I was. But I'm not anymore. You don't have a sense of humour any more, either. <...> The thing is, I hate reunions. I didn't want to sit here for hours talking about nothing and dancing around what we really want to say. So now, I know you're happy in New York. I know your husband's rich and sweet and kind to you. I know you're unarmed. And you didn't come here for sex because you don't love me anymore. And it's only three minutes past.