I've loved this musical for...well, forever. And I've always wanted to write something for it, but it's hard to do picturing Angela and George as the characters. Thankfully, Helena and Johnny are a little easier to use.
That said, I don't think I like this drabble very much. In fact, I think it's crap. I was just desperate to write something besides what I've been doing.
Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.
It was almost torture, watching him. He was a proper artist with those razor blades, undoubtedly the best barber in the city. He took great care of his customers, making sure his knives were as sharp as possible so he would, in turn, be as gentle as possible to the gentleman's chin.
The thing she liked most about it was the way his eyes were alight with passion. He was always so concentrated. There was only one other thing he'd ever shown that much tenacity towards and that was his Lucy. The pretty little thing was the size of a blimp right now and Nellie thanked the heavens her Albert had never wanted children.
Lucy's hormones kept her husband away from her during these last few weeks. He seemed unable to put up with the woman. He'd thrown himself into his work while she did nothing but rest in their bedroom. Mrs. Lovett remembered a day no more than a week ago he'd seemed particularly frustrated.
"I'm sorry for barging into your shop like this, Nellie, but I had to come somewhere."
The woman smiled fondly at the barber as she poured him a glass of gin. "No trouble at all, Mr. Barker."
They had talked for a while that day and at the end of it, he kissed her forehead, thanking her for her help. She didn't really see what she had done to help his matters, but she was unwilling to argue with his affection for her.
Secretly, she fantasized about being Mrs. Nellie Barker. He was all she needed to be happy, the way she saw it. They could run away together, with his blades and her recipes, and get along just fine.
Yes, Nellie Lovett decided as she set down a plate of food intended for the barber, it was in fact torture watching him. The way he was when he was with his Lucy and Johanna. It should be her, not that spoiled brat. She could truly have whatever she wanted, all she had to do was ask and Benjamin would get it for her. Nellie wished it was her.
She silently gazed at him from across the room. The razor he was using shone brightly in the light that came from the overhead window, almost like it was smiling, happy to be doing its job.
"Your wife?" She heard the customer ask once he was done with the shave. Nellie felt her heart begin to beat faster, skipping every other beat.
Mr. Barker smiled and shook his head, ever so slightly. "My landlord."
It was then that it occurred to her; in this life, she could never be any more than that – his landlord. For some reason, though, the thought didn't discourage her. Perhaps later, in some other life…
Let me know what you think. Be honest, please?