"Toby will get me out of here," the woman says the next time the man appears outside her cell door.
The man presses his face to the barred window, head tilted, saying nothing.
"He won't let you do this to me," says the woman from where she sits on her cot. The midday sun leaks through her cell's tiny window and casts a sickly yellow glow upon her skin. "He won't let me burn to death. He cares about me."
"As dearly as you care about him, I'm sure," says the man.
She flinches and draws in a hissing breath between her teeth. "He'll come save me. I know he will."
The man lifts an eyebrow. "You believe the boy whom you were ready to kill will be your rescuer? You think he still holds you in such high-esteem?"
"He'll love me no matter what lies you feed him," says the woman, then goes still. She shoots to her feet and the yellow glow falls from her skin to the floor. "You killed him, didn't you?"
"You have no faith in me, do you?"
"You murderous bastard – "
"Calm yourself," he says as she draws nearer with flushed cheeks and trembling hands. "The boy is alive as he ever was. Though I haven't seen him for three weeks."
"I've been here three weeks?" she whispers, but he does not answer this.
"He's fine. Works for Mrs. Mooney now."
She flinches again. "And you? You're still in my house?"
"It's my house now, pet. But yes, that's right. I still keep up a most respectable business." She snorts and he raises an eyebrow, continuing, "My shop is busier than ever. News of your witchcraft spread fast, once it appeared in the papers. Now everyone wants to hear a firsthand account of what you were like from the innocent man whom you bewitched."
"And what're you doing with the bodies now, hmm? Can't really see you chopping the men to bits and cooking them into pies."
"I'm shocked at the implication that I would continue your evil work." She snarls and shakes her head. He frowns. "I shave my customers, Mrs. Lovett, that is all. Without you in my house – "
"It's still my house whether you like it or not, Todd."
" – your spell over me holds no longer. I've returned to the respectable barber I always was."
"How long're you going to keep this facade up, love?" the woman hisses, gripping the bars and leaning towards him. "How long d'you really think you're going to last without being able to butcher some fellow's throat? I know you, my darling. I know you can't go long without a little blood. It's the only way for you to pretend that you're still alive, that your whole life isn't a pretense – "
He jerks away from the bars, sneering, the muscles of his back balled with tension. "Good-night, Mrs. Lovett."
