Disclaimer; Not mine. Don't sue.
"Nosy bloody woman," Mrs. Lovett muttered as she hurried up the steps to her barber's parlor, skirts clutched in her hands to keep them out of the way of her feet. This day was going badly enough already- she didn't need to be tripping over herself on these treacherous stairs. That would just be the icing on the cake that was this miserable bloody day.
With a bang and cheerful jingle Mrs. Lovett crashed into Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlor, her hair in a tizz and her face flushed with worry and exertion.
"Mr. T- what we goin' to do about Mrs. Mooney? This is the second time this week that she's come snoopin' round here. And she can't be the only one gettin' suspicious," She paused in her pacing and ranting, looking properly at the silent barber for the first time since her theatrical entrance into his parlor.
"Mr. T? You listenin' to me?" At his non-response the petite baker marched over to him to stand at his side. Hands propped on her hips she faced him, taking in his expressionless profile. "I know you got your 'ead all twisted up over this whole Judge matter, but you'll never get another crack at 'im if we get arrested for wot we're doin' here."
His brow furrowed, an injured glint pricking his dark eyes and Mrs. Lovett let her hands drop her sides, slumping a little in defeat. She never could maintain her anger with him when he looked all broken like that. "Ah, Mr. T- you'll get your chance at that bastard Turpin-"
"When?" His lips barely moved to let the word pass, as though he didn't really want to speak it at all. His fists clenched at his sides and the hurt disappeared from his face.
"All in good time, my love," Mrs. Lovett murmured helplessly, reaching out a tentative hand to lay it gently against his shoulder blade. When he didn't move away or slap her hand off she had the irrestable urge to move closer and wrap her arms around him. Somehow, though, she restrained herself. After the first couple of weeks of showing her obvious interest in him- brushing up against him, leaning over to give him a good view of her ample cleavage and touching him whenever possible- she had realised that nothing would distract him from his purpose. She didn't want him to dread her visits to his parlor because of her forthrightness. She wanted him to long for her company as much as she did for his. That, she knew however, was never going to happen until his score was settled with the Judge and his daughter was rescued. And even then... No, she didn't want to think about what would happen once his only purpose in life was completed. Couldn't bear the thought that he might disappear again. Or worse, die. Either by his own hand or through sheer despair- it didn't matter. Either way, he wouldn't ever be coming back. She wouldn't be keeping his razors hidden for him, in the desperate hope that he might return. No. She didn't think about this at all. Much.
After a long moment of her hand growing warm against his back, the vengeful barber moved away to stand at his window, staring lifelessly at the pale grey sky outside. Mrs. Lovett sighed softly and shook her head. She knew she wouldn't be getting any help from him on the Mooney front today.
He wasn't like this every day. Some days he paced constantly, brimming with restless energy, dark eyes crackling with hellfire and she would recieve an inordinate amount of bodies in her bakehouse. Others, like this one, he would be quiet and introverted- a dark, beautiful statue, all flowing lines and hard walls. A sea of pain held back by an indomitable will. These days were few and far between and they hurt her more than any other. It was rare for a hapless customer to plunge, neck cracking, skull crushing, blood gushing, into her bakehouse on these days. It seemed Mr. Todd had lost all his bloodlust and rage and simply didn't have the heart for slaughter.
But what was most heart-wrenching about these horrible days was his silence. He didn't snarl, didn't pace with all the grace of hungry tiger. His face wasn't broken into demonic hate, filled with fury at his fate. No... He was quiet. And blank. And so obviously hurting that it made her chest ache and her eyes prick with hot, sympathetic tears. Not that they ever fell. Mrs. Lovett was nothing if not practical and she knew that tears never solved anything. Not that she knew what would in this case.
With a false smile and a gritting of her teeth, the messy-haired baker straightened her spine and left her broken barber alone with his misery.
It would be a long and fruitful night at Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium.
A/N: I've fallen absolutely, head over heels in love with this movie. It's so beautiful and dark and magical and stark. -shivers- It's amazing, lol! Reviews are candy- please feed me!