25. Hero
"'Ere you are, dears," Mrs. Lovett says brightly, placing two tumblers of gin down. "Don't gulp it down else it'll go straight to yer 'eads."
She bustles away then, pulling out her equipment to make more pastry. Toby watches her roll out the dough, humming contentedly to herself.
Abruptly, he turns to the man at his side.
"I'm gonna look after 'er," he announces, glaring at Mr. Todd as hard as he can, managing to keep the quiver out of his voice. He knows he is safe as long as his mum is in the room. "She don't need you anymore. She's got me now. I'll keep 'er safe."
Todd glances at the boy, a sneer curling his lip as he reaches for his tumbler of gin. He downs it in a few gulps, barely grimacing at the burning in his throat. "You do that."
"I mean it," Toby insists. "I ain't gonna let you 'urt 'er. She likes you, but I don't trust you an' I swear if you ever 'arm 'er, I'll kill ya."
Todd smirks openly at this, his fingers finding the cool blade of his friend. The boy, overpower him? He hasn't a chance. Todd could kill the lad right now if he wanted to—how tempting the prospect!—feel the soft yield of muscle underneath his razor as the blood spurts forth. The mere idea of the boy outwitting him is laughable.
"I'll bear that in mind," he growls instead, his gaze drawn irresistibly to the way Mrs. Lovett kneads the dough fluidly, gently.
The lad doesn't seem to realise Todd is patronising him. He only nods in satisfaction, obviously keen to play the baker's little hero.
"Good," he says, picking up his gin.