A/n: Drabble-y sort of thing. Yes, this is rather disconnected from itself.
A soft click was the only audible sound in the still of night. Besides the heavy sobs from within, of course. Sure the door had been fully shut, he finished buttoning his shirt, automatically, hands working as nimbly as they would have with a razor, but certainly not as connected. Everything aside from delivering the brush between steel and skin was done as if in a haze, numbly and without thought. That night had been no different, and no different from any other night. Perhaps she had not cried as roughly the other nights, or perhaps he had not bruised her arms so deeply purple before, but it did not matter; it was all the same. Calypso could not have her Odysseus without a hint of remorse, without remembering what pain she caused his heart. Despite this, Mrs. Lovett continued to call upon the sulking beast upstairs, pain for pleasure, whether she bled or no, and she knew what was bound to happen.
He heard her wailing over her hands, now thoroughly bruised and battered. Perhaps it would keep them off him. But he was not the only one to hear.
"What've you done?"
Toby's sunken eyes stared dimly at him from across the room. Crumpled on his tattered couch, the boy was but a vague shadow in the darkness. Only those black eyes, like the eyes of the dead, were visible.
"It's none of your concern, Tobias. Go back to bed."
"You hear that? You've gone made the missus cry," the boy accused, voice shaking. "I- you can't do that, I'll-"
A deathly glare quickly staunched the flow of words sporadically bursting from Toby. "You'd best shut your mouth boy, if you know what's good for you."
Toby did not know what was good for him. The boy placed his faith in the false truths of heroism and goodness, of which there was none in this world, this rat-infested pit. "You'll be sorry fer hurting her..." he muttered gravely, his black eyes narrowing.
It was a curious thing. Toby suddenly found himself horribly alone in the shadows, with only the sound of his hoarse breathing and Mrs. Lovett's soft sobbing to accompany him in the darkness. It was even more curious when the shadows wrapped a heavy hand around his neck, fingers digging into the soft flesh until he jerked and fell slack. Released, he fell into a broken bundle on the floor. The shadows looked on, emotionless, and returned upstairs.
"No matter. Boy talked too much for his own good anyway."