Frozen Air, Melting Heart
December 1st
"MISTA' TODD!" an unbalanced Mrs. Lovett shouted excitedly as she attempted to dash up the stairs to the demon barber's parlor. The frozen ice coating each step made this quite difficult, yet she somehow managed to make it anyway. "MISTA' T! CAN YAH 'EAR ME?" she rammed her fist against the door numerous times before a very grumpy Sweeney Todd whisked it open.
He was not pleased to be greeted by his landlady foolishly bundled in a heavy scarf and jacket for no apparent reason at his doorstep... and this early in the morning? Sweeney may not sleep often, but he needed the pacing time nonetheless. "MISTA' TODD!" Eleanor squealed in his face, much to the irritation of his aching head.
"Wot in the bloody-" he began to yell, but was quickly stopped as Mrs. Lovett snatched his collar and pointed towards the sky.
"Look!" she whispered, grinning ear to ear as her breath formed a cloudy wisp in the chilled air. Sweeney took a look outside for the first time this morning and gasped quietly at the sight.
Indeed, it was quite a spectacular scene to behold. Small ice crystals danced in the air, drifting down in a never-ending shower of soft flakes. The normally dark and dreadful homes and roads of Fleet Street were coated in a blanket of untouched snow, somehow making the air feel lighter and easier to breathe. To Sweeney's astonishment, even the sky was a brilliant shade of a clean, fresh white, brightening every nook and cranny of the city beyond. The smoke of the various chimneys quickly dissipated into the silent air, and there was not a soul walking by, making the sight all the more incredible.
"It's SNOWING, Mista' Todd!" Mrs. Lovett whispered to him once more, "It 'asn't snowed heya in London fo' YEAS!" her gloved hand squeezed his slightly warm shoulder in excitement. "Jus' look at it, Mista' T!"
"I…I am..." was all Sweeney could mutter in response, still trying to capture all the priceless beauty before him. He was suddenly reminded of times before his imprisonment in Australia, times when the snow would fall before him and his small family. Oh, how Lucy's wheat-yellow hair would shine as it contrasted against the jealous whiteness of the snow! Benjamin was never affected by the cold when he was with his Lucy…she was the only one who could make him warm inside during chilly weather… Sweeney felt his chest constrict at his the realization that his memories of the past were just that: memories. Things that could never be…
"Isn't it amazin', Mista' Todd?" Mrs. Lovett broke the brief silence, smiling all the more.
"Lucy…Lucy loved the snow…" Sweeney whispered deep in thought and pain, still staring into the sky and watching the mesmerizing icy flecks fall.
Mrs. Lovett's face faltered slightly at the mentioning of 'beloved' Lucy, but her smile quickly recovered, "Who don't love snow, Mista' T? An' we 'aven't 'ad it in so long…an' it's nevah been like this befoa…" she noted, looking upwards herself.
"No….Nevah…like this…" he shook his head lightly in agreement, still under the snow's hypnotic spell…
They both just stood there in silence, beholding the sight before them, drinking in the rare beauty and peacefulness that settled over the normally hellish Fleet Street. Suddenly the barber shuddered in his doorway from the bitter cold, now piercing through his light white shirt and black vest. Mrs. Lovett quickly took notice. "Oh deah, come on down and we'll get yah all toasty an' warm. I got us a fiah goin' an' a nice cup a' tea watin' for ya, love." She hooked her arm around Sweeney's (much to his displeasure) and guided him outside the doorframe, breaking Sweeney's snow trance. Mrs. Lovett looked into his eyes for the first time today, noticing how dark and deep they seemed against the blank snow. She began to shudder herself when his tantalizing gaze tilted down to meet her own. "Come, love…" she encouraged, pulling his arm towards the hazardous stairs as the door squealed shut.
Quietly, Mrs. Lovett led the way, careful to take one step at a time on the icy wooden steps so as not to cause Sweeney to slip. When they finally reached the bottom of the stairs, they were immediately greeted with the pelting of snowballs from behind the nearby fence. Luckily, no snowballs collided with Sweeney, much to Mrs. Lovett's relief. She, on the other hand, had taken the entire attack, the evidence showing like cream polka dots on her fern green coat. "Ow!" she squeaked, putting her free arm in front of her in defense as another snowball shower began. "Who's theah?" she smiled as three young boys around the ages of ten or so appeared from behind the fence. They threw their remaining ammo and shuffled away, calling "'Appy 'Oliday's, Miss!" over their shoulders. Sweeney Todd groaned in annoyance. He never recalled innocent Johanna doing something so…irritating…
"Silly lit'uhle nits…" Eleanor tsked lightly, brushing as much snow off her favorite green winter dress as possible. She quickly opened the door to the shop and hustled in with Sweeney right behind her as she hung up her coat. The crisp, chilled air in the kitchen smelled of evergreens and berries, the barber noticed as he rested his hands on the kitchen island. Quite different from the usual scent of fresh meat pies and gin, for sure.
"Can yah believe Chris'mas is righ' roun' tha corna' Mista' T?" Mrs. Lovett shook her head as she set the tea kettle on the stove. To her, it seemed as though her time with Sweeney had been flying by. Why, just today she realized it was the first of December! Her favorite month of the year, it was. Everyone in cheery moods, days of giving and loving, and her birthday, to top it all off.
"Indeed…" Sweeney neutrally replied. He was becoming lost in thought again, staring outside at the falling snow once more. He had drowned out Mrs. Lovett's voice before he even noticed she was still talking to him. Instead, the sounds of Lucy singing Christmas carols teasingly filled his ears.
"I don't see why yah 'ave to be so negative 'bout Chris'mas, Mista' Todd…"the baker continued, resting her head in one hand on the island as well. "It don't 'ave to be SO bad…I mean…with someone ta share it with this yeah…I don't rememba' the last time I had company with meh durin' these cold months…" she absentmindedly poked a lump of dough with her chopping knife. The darkness of the shop gave it a haunting glow. "Albert neva' really got inta Chris'mas eitha, though…"
"Hmm…" Sweeney grunted, obviously ignoring the outside world for the moment. However, his 'acknowledgement' was enough to convince Eleanor to continue.
" 'E neva' really got inta tha spirit a things, yah know? Was all 'bout the food for 'em, it was…'E nevah really realized jus' how fortunate 'e was to be livin' the way 'e did…'Course e'ry time I tried to tell 'em this 'e just wen' on 'bout how I was tha one who 'oughta be thankful for 'is company…" her eyebrows knitted in a bit of frustration. "But wheneva' I told 'im so, 'e wouldn't listen…" she shuddered at the harsh memories of what Albert would do when she frustrated and confused him like that… "E'ry Chris'mas was lonely…Albert nevah really was theah wit meh." She shoved the knife into the dough and planted her head in her other hand. "Maybeh this yeah could be diff'ren'…righ'?"
"Of course…" came the monotone reply.
"Mista' T?" Eleanor stood and approached the motionless barber with her arms crossed. "Mista' T?" she tried again.
"Hmm…" Sweeney's dark eyes were practically glued to white window. Mrs. Lovett stepped in front of him, blocking his view.
"Mista' T? You list'nen ta meh?"
"Wot?" the barber blinked, his thoughts shattering as his landlady cocked her head at him. He couldn't really care less about what was going on around him, but the screaming tea kettle brought him back into agonizing reality.
"You 'aven't been listenin' ta meh, 'ave ya?" the baker spat in agitation. "Wot in the bloody 'ell do I 'ave ta do ta do ta make ya at least know I'm 'ere?" Sweeney just watched as Mrs. Lovett clomped over to the stove, practically fuming more than the kettle itself as she snatched the handle and heatedly poured two cups of steaming tea. She slid him a teacup and stormed off with her own into the booth across the room. Sweeney's eyebrows knitted as he slowly strutted to the table and sat across from flustered baker. She glared at him for a split second before lifting her tea to her lips.
The demon barber stared at his landlady, seemingly frozen in place. He couldn't help but study how her facial expression changed after her second sip of tea. It looked as though it melted from frustration to relaxation in a mere few seconds. He took a steady sip himself, wondering if she knew how easily he could read her emotions at the moment. Eleanor's eyes slowly lifted from the table to Sweeney's. She sighed deeply. "Mista' T…?" she gently asked. "I'm sorry, love…" her words seemed almost…fragile, to Sweeney, as they hung in the air for minutes before his reply.
"For wot?"
"…For yellin'…and blamin' ya when I be the one to rattle on an' annoy ya so much…" she softly replied. Her hands closed around her cup, highlighting her pale, cold hands.
As much as Sweeney hated to admit it, (and he REALLY did hate it) he didn't necessarily mind the baker's constant chatter. It gave him a sense of comfort, actually…it was proof he wasn't completely alone in his miserable life. There was at least one person who cared, even if that person wouldn't stop talking. If he dared to look deep down inside of himself, Sweeney would find he even enjoyed Eleanor's conversation. However, today the barber certainly did not want to attempt such dangerous exploring…he thought it would be easier to keep everything as 'normal' as possible.
"Don't be…" he simply said, looking her in the eyes for a moment. Her rich pools of chocolate brown glinted back with a look of relief and loving.
Mrs. Lovett sighed. "Mista' Todd, ya too good ta me, ya know that?" the corners of her lips tilted upwards. "If ya don't wan'a make a big deal outta Chris'mas, that's fine…But…there's at leas' one…thing I wanna 'ave this yeah…"
Sweeney was relieved himself for her understanding of his feelings towards the holiday. "Wot is it." He stated, rather than asked, and raised an eyebrow in anticipation for the answer to come from the now grinning woman.
"A tree…"