That Effect He Has

Ron isn't the sort to lord his spot in the social hierarchy of his patch in London over others. He's not a show off with it; doesn't need to be. In the circles he walks in it's just known that he's the sharp end of the Kray Twins; the iron rod behind brother Reggie's silky smiles and endless charm. But while he'd never brag about that, never even bring it up to an innocent - a non-gangster, straight and narrow sort - there're signs. This, for example:

What ‘Big Joy’ Looks Like

I cant sit still

Sit down. Stand up. Sit down elsewhere. Stand up.

Pacing. Pacing. Pacing.

GLEE-jitters

Hands rubbing at ribs/arms

-insert 'random' chortling here-

This:

8. longstreamsofsyllableswithoutahopeofsyntax

9. I Still Can't Sit Still

10. Cause of Big Joy (if a person) Is Getting Bear Hugged

11. Cause of Big Joy (if a person) is also being lingered near A Lot

12. Likewise with the having of a hand on 'em almost constantly (because joy is vibes and vibes travel through touch so Big Joy can be shared/given back through touch, right?)

13. So. Much. Energy.

14. If dance is involved, Will Dance.

15. If not, Might Anyway.

16. Smiles. All the time.

‘Reggie!...REGGIE!’ 

‘WHAT, Ron?!’

‘LEFT A BIT, ALRIGH!?’

‘Like-’

‘NO! TH’OVVAH LEFT Y’F-’

A rollicking the likes of which Spitalfields hadn’t heard in months was cut short only because of the arrival of an unfamiliar face in Ron Kray’s periphery. A dainty thing, made of blacks and blues and pale, creamy skin, she seemed to have stopped by on her way through the area to take a peek at what all the ruckus was about. Today was the debut of their prize venue’s new frontage - new signs, new flower planters, new windows, new everything - and the final touches prior to opening to the public were just taking place as the curious miss with ocean eyes was caught look-seeing. The working lads were off today on other business, so it’d fallen to the spot’s proprietors - Ron and Reg - to get their signage hung and ready. Hence Reg being precariously placed up a ladder while Ron did his best at directing him as he wrestled their brand new Ten Bells sign into place.

It wasn’t going very well. 

Heaving out a world-weary sigh, Ron flipped the flat cap of his head and dragged his fingers through his habitually slicked back hair. He wasn’t a wealthy man really, despite owning a public house. But what spare coin he had went on pomade. Or tobacco. Looking at the new arrival then, he addressed her as if he’d known her years despite not even knowing her name.

‘Y’can’t get th’staff these days, l-’

‘RONNIE!’ Reg broke in, up his ladder still.

Ron went as stiff as a board where he stood; his jaw and his fists clenching briefly in frustration. Again though, he spoke to the lady.

Style

Ron…Y’see Ron’s one of these kinda people -

One’a these kinda people -

One’a these, and these, and these kinda people -

Ron doesn’t do scruffy.* He’s known by the folks in his immediate circle as The Colonel, and part of that - indeed the best part of it, but for how he marches more than walks when he’s on a mission - comes from how fastidious he is about his and his employees’ outward appearance.

This here meme:

‘Bettah an ‘our early than ten minutes late, mate’ Ron said, tapping his watch. ‘…I don’t take well t’bein’ kept waitin’, ‘n giv  th’same courtesy t’ovvah people.’