The moment he stepped into the pie shop in the morning, he was met with an alluring scent from the old stove and a chirpy, "Good mornin', Mr. T!" He was delighted to see Mrs. Lovett coming his way with her usual wide grin and enthusiasm. "'Ow'd you sleep, dear? Oh, go on, I'll fix you some nice scrambled eggs. Go on, sit, dear; sit you down right there." She gestured fervently at one of the tables and steered Sweeney towards it.
An almost miraculous change had taken place in her during the night. She was once again just as spirited as ever, and Sweeney wondered for a moment if he'd merely imagined the last day. Before she could return to the stove, however, he managed to steal a glance at her lips and despite the excessive paint she'd used to cover it, Mrs. Lovett had failed to conceal the small cut in her lower lip.
Sweeney contemplated sitting down, but deciding it would not be a barrel of fun to hold a staring contest with Tobias, he followed his landlady back to the stove and stood behind her silently while she fussed with the skillet. He had an unfamiliar warm feeling in his chest, one completely different from the urgent desire he'd felt for Mrs. Lovett the evening before. He remembered the feeling from the day they'd first had their sensational idea of cooperating, when he'd felt an extraordinary closeness to the woman due to their shared vicious train of thought. He felt like he wanted to hold her ever so gently; he wanted to be of use, be of assistance and to be trusted enough to help. He wanted to help ease the burden on Mrs. Lovett's shoulders, and at this precise moment in time he wanted nothing in return. And yet he didn't quite dare do anything. If Mrs. Lovett's behaviour last night was any indication, she didn't exactly pine for his closeness, never mind how many times she had given him the impression of the exact opposite. So instead of reaching out to touch her, Sweeney leaned a little bit closer and whispered her name.
The woman jumped, turned around and found herself standing acutely close to the barber. And although she had plenty of room to retreat to, she didn't take a step farther from him. Instead, with a brilliant smile, she grasped Sweeney's hand in her own, turned her big coquettish eyes up towards him and softly said, "Mr. T, I'm so sorry for lashin' out at you like I did last night. I was truly thankful for your care and I know you expected some form of gratitude from me. But I was just–."
"No, Mrs. Lovett," Sweeney cut her off with sudden horror. "You mustn't think that. I didn't expect anything from you." He turned his hand so that he could caress the floury skin of Mrs. Lovett's wrist. "I realize I should have kept my... desire for you at bay," he added huskily and thought he nearly saw a faint shudder go through the woman's body.
A bright flush crept over her cheeks while her eyes searched his for confirmation of what she thought she had just heard. Sweeney knew she could read nothing from his serious face, but even as he spoke with carefully chosen words, in his eyes was a desirous gleam; and familiar little dimples appeared in Mrs. Lovett's cheeks.
The next moment, however, she looked over the barber's shoulder and pulled her hand out of his grasp. They had spoken in hushed tones and yet Mrs. Lovett lowered her voice even further when she said, "Go on now, sit you down."
After a moment of consideration Sweeney turned and walked back to the table with a pleasant feeling of contentment in his chest. He sat down and when Mrs. Lovett came to place a plate and a cup in front of him, casually brushed his hand against hers. It was a fleeting, gentle touch and their eyes locked for the briefest of moments. Then Mrs. Lovett turned and bustled off into the parlour to fetch something or other she suddenly remembered needing. Sweeney smirked at her haste to conceal the optimistic spark in her eyes and the enthusiastic heat in her body.
In a little while he raised his eyes to the grim face of the young boy sitting across the table from him. He was staring crossly at the barber, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips a thin line. "Good morning, Tobias," Sweeney attempted to ease the vicious tension between them. He didn't particularly like the youngling, but since Mrs. Lovett seemed to have taken a liking to the boy, he supposed it would not hurt to be civil towards him.
The boy didn't reply the way he'd expected. Instead he continued glaring at the barber for a little while longer and then muttered darkly, "You hurt her." Sweeney frowned in perplexity. "You don't think I've noticed the way she trembles when you're near her," Toby went on in a tone of bitter accusation. "You shouldn't harm no one, you know. What harm has she ever done to you?"
As comprehension dawned, Sweeney bared his teeth in an unearthly grin. "You don't know what you're talking about," he stated calmly, sensing how the boy could falsely interpret the relationship between him and their landlady.
Unfortunately, Toby didn't take the matter quite so light-heartedly. His fingers closed around a knife he'd found beside his plate. "He denies it," he growled, and before the barber had even a chance to prepare himself, Toby lunged at him, dashing around the table, holding out the knife to strike at the man. "You'll pay for hurtin' her," he threatened fiercely.
But Sweeney was not exactly laggard either. He jumped out of his chair and caught Toby's hand mid-air; his face took on a sour, annoyed expression. "Hold your horses, boy," Sweeney warned him. "I don't want to hurt you."
Toby struggled to free his hand, and as soon as it was clear he didn't have enough strength in him to match the barber's, he threw himself at the man, his other swift hand reaching with animalistic fury for Sweeney's throat. "You'll pay for it!"
Sweeney dodged his grasp masterfully, and painfully twisted Toby's arm behind his back. "Don't threaten me," he hissed through gritted teeth and held the raging boy firmly between himself and the table. Toby was starting to pant in his vain struggle for freedom from Sweeney's iron grip and for a chance to attack him again.
Their eyes rose to the feminine figure that had appeared hastily in the doorway. "What's all this fightin' an' shoutin'?" she demanded, quickly taking in the scene in front of her. "Boys! Stop this foolishness this minute!" she squealed as she dashed forward. The "boys" withdrew from one another instantly, with Sweeney giving the younger man a disdainful shove and Toby staggering awkwardly back to his seat. Mrs. Lovett remained standing between them, hands on her hips and a disappointed pout on her face. She looked from one flushed face to the other, studying their disarranged clothes and the small knife between Toby's cramped fingers. "Now, why can't the two of you get along?" she asked in weary exasperation.
"He's a bad person, that's why," Toby piped up sullenly. "I know he is, mum. But you can't see it."
Mrs. Lovett waved a hand to shush him, walking over to the boy. "Oh, what a silly thing to say," she commented, snaking an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close to her. With her other hand she gently untangled Toby's fingers from their grip around the knife. "Mr. T has been so kind to us," she said quietly, looking over the fuming boy's head at the silent barber.
Sweeney sat back at the table and frowned at his empty plate.
The breakfast passed in silence for the most part. Various curious glances passed between Mrs. Lovett and "her boys"; none, however, between the men. After a while the landlady's hand reached out to stroke Toby's head. "Why don't you run along now, Toby, dear?" she suggested in a tone of motherly fondness. "I've got somethin' I wanna discuss with Mr. T 'ere." And despite her tone, she gave him a look meaningful enough to send the boy dashing out of the room.
"Mr. T!" Mrs. Lovett whispered loudly once she'd seen the boy close the door behind him. "What was all that fightin' abou' earlier?" She leaned closer to the man in a conspiratorial fashion.
Sweeney looked up at the woman with mild disbelief. "Don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet," he said drily. "You, what else."
Now it was Mrs. Lovett's turn to be astounded. She let her big eyes grow even wider as she asked, "What are you on abou'?"
Sweeney studied the woman sitting next to him, her curious face with its wide eyes and pursed lips and also the captivating view of her cleavage that her fancy new dress provided. His courage based on their earlier discussion in the kitchen, Sweeney reached over to trail his fingers down her arm and replied sweetly, "I gather he was trying to protect your virtue."
Mrs. Lovett chortled, showing no objection to his bold touch. "My virtue?" she repeated. "I don't think there's such a thing left."
Sweeney let a faint smirk cross his lips. "Well, if you don't mind me saying so, I do think the boy has a point there." He was satisfied to see a bright blush cover his vis-à-vis' cheeks.