He grabs a shirt that is too big for his skinny frame with sleeves hanging past his hands, and Finn's boots, scuffed but fitting just right.
His 2023 side hates it, missing his Nikes and his hoodie, and everything comfortable, but Finn's used to this, layering up against Birmingham's cold like it's nothing.
As he laces the boots Elliot's mind races, throwing up facts and guesses. "Polly Gray," he says, testing Finn's recall to calm himself. "She runs the betting shop, counts every penny and scares the hell out of everyone. She's downstairs and I'm supposed to be her nephew?"
It's wild, like walking onto a movie set to meet a star but Finn's gut twists as saying one wrong word and she'll tear him apart.
The stairs groan under his weight as he heads down with each step louder than he wants in this quiet house.
The Shelby kitchen's full of smoke, with pots hissing on a black stove that's seen better days. Polly's at the table with her hair tied back tight slicing bread like it's got a grudge against her.
She's smaller than Elliot pictured from his TV screen, but her eyes are dark and piercing making him swallow hard, like she's reading his soul.
"You're dragging your feet today, Finn," she says, not bothering to look up from her knife. "You sick, or just lazy like usual?"
Finn opens his mouth, and Elliot's sarcasm itches to fire off something stupid, like "Missed my coffee, Pol." But Finn's fear locks it down, like a reflex that knows better than to test her.
"Just tired from sleeping bad," he says with the accent thick while sitting fast at the table to avoid her stare. Polly slides him a chunk of bread and a cup of tea.
He stares at the mug, his 2023 side craving an energy drink or anything with flavor, but Finn's hands know the routine as he grip it tight like it's all he's got.
"Brothers back tonight, yeah?" he asks, testing what Finn's memory holds and what Elliot's Season 1 guesses can pull.
Polly pauses, her knife hovering above the loaf and looks at him, like she's counting every blink to spot a lie. "Yeah, Finn, they're back," she says in a sharp and suspicious voice.
"Tommy, Arthur and John are all coming home from France. You knew that already, so don't play dumb." Finn nods quickly while chewing bread to cover the shake in his hands.
Elliot's buzzing inside with his heart racing; Tommy Shelby, the guy who outsmarts Kimber like it's a game, Arthur with his wild fists and John with his cheeky grins, they're real and not just Netflix stars.
They're walking into this house tonight, like Season 1's big opening and he's right here, not safe on a couch but stuck in their world.
He tries his power again, watching Polly pour tea into another cup with her wrist flicking with a quick and practiced twist. Finn mimics it under the table, pouring air without spilling a drop like he's been doing it his whole life.
It's freaky and beyond normal, just hours ago he was splashing Red Bull on his jeans, now he's got her move nailed in seconds flat. "This learning thing's pure gold," he thinks, Finn's pebble flipping faster in his pocket, a nervous tic that calms him.
Season 1's fuzzy in his memory, though, Kimber's loud face at the Garrison, and the mess at Cheltenham and the blood of Black Star Day, but dates and names slip away.
"Tommy's fixing Monaghan Boy soon," he recalls and piecing it together, "and that's what pisses off Kimber. I can use that if I'm smart."
"Stop staring like a fool," Polly snaps breaking his thoughts. "Go find Ada and tell her to get home now. She's probably at the market dodging her chores again."
Finn's gut knows Ada, his sister who's always slipping away from Polly's rules and Elliot recalls her as the sister who fights with Tommy.
"Right Pol, I'm going," Finn says while standing up.
Outside, Small Heath was... Interesting, with mud sucking at Finn's boots making every step a fight, and the air's full with coal smoke and the sour stink of horse dung.
Elliot's 2023 side wants to gag missing pavement, cars and anything clean, but Finn's legs stride easy like they've walked these streets a thousand times without tripping.
He heads to the market, a noisy sprawl of stalls and shouting vendors near the canal, passing the betting shop where a sign creaks: Shelby Brothers Limited.
Elliot heart starts beating fast as he sees the place where Tommy builds his empire from nothing. At the market, Finn scans the crowd looking for Ada's dark hair or her quick laugh. He spots her near a fruit stall talking to a man with a scruffy beard and a loud voice.
Elliot knows him from Season 1 as the communist who stirs trouble, Freddie something. They're standing close with Ada smiling but it's not clear what they're saying over the market's noise.
Finn ducks behind a cart with his heart pounding and listens. The man's voice carries with talk of "meetings" and "standing up," like the union stuff from the show.
Ada nods then turns away heading down an alley alone.
"Ada," Finn calls and stepping out, his shyness blending with Elliot's push to get it done.
She spins with her face annoyed like he's caught her at something. "What, Finn? Can't you see I'm busy?"
"Polly wants you home, says it's time. Brothers are back tonight." Ada sighs while rolling her eyes like it's a chore. "Tell her I'll be there, alright?"
Finn nods and catching a vendor nearby shouting "Fresh apples!" in a rough bark. His power grabs the tone storing it tight like a file he can pull later when it counts. He tries it under his breath, "Fresh apples," so exact it spooks him as if the voice is his now.
Back home, the day drags slow and Finn's stuck helping Polly scrub pots, his hands stinging from the rough soap.
His knack picks up her knife grip fast, cutting carrots with her speed in no time. Elliot's mind won't quit spinning through what's coming; Tommy's arrival and Kimber lurking out there, and this learning trick giving him a head start. "I know Black Star Day's the end," he thinks while flipping the pebble in his pocket, "Kimber's dead by Christmas if it goes right."
But 1919's real and scarier than any show, and Finn's heart pounds hard like he's not sure he's ready for what's next.
Dusk settles over Small Heath, and the air shifts, growing tense like something big's about to break loose.
Boots thud outside and the door bangs open with voices flooding the house.
Arthur's first, his roar filling every corner, "Polly, where's the bloody whiskey at?"
His hair's wild with fists clenched tight like he's still fighting battles from France.
John's next laughing bright, "Missed this rotten dump!" His cap's tilted with a cigarette tossed aside with a grin.
Tommy's last, he is moving slow with eyes scanning the room like he owns every inch of time itself.
Finn's in the kitchen doorway frozen in place. Elliot's 2023 side screams inside, "That's Tommy Shelby right there," like he's staring at a legend, but Finn's legs want to bolt, scared they'll crush him without a thought.
"Finn," Tommy says with flat voice, catching his eye like he's reading something unimportant.
"You're taller now." It's not warm just a fact like he's sizing up a stray dog.
Arthur loudly laughs enough to rattle plates, "Taller? Kid's a twig, look at him!"
John winks, tossing a coin in the air, "Got a girl yet, Finn, or what?"
Elliot's got no clever comeback, so he forces a grin while mumbling, "Not yet, John."
Polly watches from the stove while stirring stew slow, like she's counting Finn's every breath to spot something wrong.
Tommy steps closer with smoke curling from his cigarette and Finn feels stuck, like the air's turned to mud around him. "Help John with the bags," Tommy says and turning away fast, already talking to Polly about bets, odds and things Finn knows kick off Kimber's war.
Finn nods, grabbing a sack that's heavy with John's gear. As he hauls the bag across the floor, he mimics Tommy's "Help John" under his breath, so exact it's eerie like he's stealing a piece of Tommy.
The house shakes with Arthur's shouts and John's playful jabs, and Tommy's quiet orders.
He flips his pebble as it was Finn's old habit, and thinks, "I'm not just the kid anymore. I only watched six episodes of Season 1, yeah; but I've seen enough clips on YouTube Shorts and Instagram to recognize the main players. I might not know every detail… but I learn fast. That's my edge. Let the game begin."