"Anthony, if you think we're going to be able to break her out of an asylum guarded by who knows how many drunken men with knives and clubs, you're the one who should be committed," Amelia protested, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. "Do you honestly have a plan?"

"Well, sort of," he admitted. "I know someone who can help us make up a better one."

"How do you figure that this fellow will know any more than we do?"

"Because if we're going to act like criminals, we should at least talk to one to get into the right mindset."

"We're going to the prison?" Amelia stopped dead. "What did they teach you on that ship? Are you completely addled by all that salt water you swallowed?"

"Calm down," he answered, pulling her by the arm. "We're just going to go see Mr. Todd, right around this corner. He'll know what to do, I'm sure of it."

"How do you know?"

"Amelia!" Anthony exploded, exasperated. "He's been to Australia. They only send the worst kinds of people there, and even if he was there on false charges, he's picked some things up. I'm certain."

"You didn't have to yell at me," she muttered under her breath. "It was just a question."

He stopped in front of the door to the pie shop. "I'm sorry. I'm very worried."

"Well…so am I." Amelia folded her arms. "She's my sister, so I think I would know."

"Shall I buy you a pie to make up for it?" he asked cheekily.

"No!" Amelia's eyes widened. "You're forgiven! Anything but that!"

Anthony laughed and pushed the door open. Toby swooped by, playing with one of the rolling pins. Mrs. Lovett cocked her head upon seeing the two of them together.

"Amelia, how've you been these days? I haven't seen Brianne around in weeks."

"I've been fine, thank you. Brianne's pretty busy with the new babies we've been getting down at the orphanage."

Mrs. Lovett's eyes lit up. "I'll be sure to send them all some pies."

"Oh, I'm sure that'll be like…nothing they've ever had," Amelia said, trying not to giggle.

"Have you seen Mr. Todd at all?" Anthony ventured, earning himself a friendly kind of glare.

"You ought to rent the room next to him, you're over here so much," Mrs. Lovett remarked, flipping the oven shut. "He's up in his room, but I don't know if I'd go in there if I were you. He's right upset about something to do with his daughter." Her eyes narrowed. "As I recall, this happened shortly after you left."

"Oh, no, no," Anthony said hastily. "I haven't done anything, I really just need to ask him something."

"Your funeral," she shrugged. "At least if he kills you I won't have to keep cleaning up the snow you track in here."

Amelia looked taken aback, and Mrs. Lovett quickly assured her she was joking. Anthony tugged on her sleeve.

"I'm not going up there," she whispered. "This man sounds like he's dangerous! I don't want to get killed by some…evil razor or something!"

"That's silly," Anthony chided. "Mr. Todd would never murder anyone, much less with razors."

"Well, I'm staying here."

"Suit yourself, maybe you'll get to taste-test." He turned to go.

"Wait, wait! I'm coming." She followed closely behind him through the door and up the stairs to the outside entrance. Anthony knocked on the door and waited, then once more. When nothing happened, Amelia began to discreetly move backwards.

"We're not leaving," Anthony said firmly. He grabbed the doorknob and shoved it open himself, much to the shock of Mr. Todd, who was in the corner pretending to ignore them.

"What are you doing in here?" he growled in so low a voice even Anthony took a generous step behind him.

"My friend and I," Anthony said, emphasizing Amelia's presence, "came to talk to you about Johanna."

"She's not here," Sweeney muttered. "Of course, you would know that, because you were the one who was supposed to bring her." He moved to his mirror and began offhandedly sharpening razors.

"Well, there's a problem," he ventured.

"I know," he snapped. "Not five minutes after you left, that bloody judge walked in and heard the entire thing."

"We know what he did," Anthony said pleadingly. "He took her, and we need you to help us figure out how to get her back."

Sweeney said nothing, just continued to fix his space.

"We know where she is," Anthony offered. His statement was met with nothing more than a casual shrug.

"She's at the asylum. We could get her out if we hurry, but there probably isn't much time." Anthony's voice was hardly higher than a whisper now.

"What's the point?" Sweeney mumbled bitterly, turning.

"The point is that she's my sister, and we need to get her back right now!" Amelia burst from her spot by the door. "I know you probably don't care about her because you don't even know her, but the least you could do is act a little more concerned! How would you feel if it was someone important to you that you might not ever see again? Do you even feel anything? You've just been in the corner this whole time acting apathetic!"

There was a stunned silence throughout the whole room, and for a moment no one moved. Sweeney simply stared at her, mouth slightly agape, though no words came out.

"Anthony, this was the wrong person to come to," Amelia said softly. "He doesn't care about Johanna or you or me or anyone."

When more minutes passed and still no one said anything, Anthony looked up from the floor where his eyes had been fixed.

"You're right, I suppose." He bowed his head once more. "We'll just be going, then." Amelia gently pulled him toward the door. Dejected, Anthony followed, reaching for the knob behind him as they left.

"Wait."

His head snapped back to Sweeney, sitting on the table with the mirror.

"Just…come back." He said it so quietly they almost couldn't hear him, but cautiously Anthony stepped back into the room. Amelia kept a safe distance behind him, but came in as well.

Sweeney's eyes seemed to have grown to twice their usual size, unnerving to Anthony, who was used to seeing them narrowed in disgust. His breathing was audibly quicker and harder, and he actually seemed human. Both hands were holding him steady under the counter, gripping the surface so hard it could have snapped.

"Mr. Todd?" Anthony offered quietly.

He choked on one of his breaths before speaking. "It's not that I don't…never for one second did I ever stop…I just…"

Amelia suddenly felt horrendously guilty for her outburst, but had no idea what to say. Anthony carefully put his hand near Sweeney's shoulder, and when he was met with no protest, put it on his back.

"Amelia didn't mean that," he said. "She's just very, very upset about losing her sister. They just realized they were related a few days ago, and the whole experience has been jarring, to say the least."

Sweeney nodded slightly before blinking a few times and hurriedly wiping his sleeve across his face.

"I'm really very sorry," Amelia said quickly upon noticing this. "I was speaking without thinking, I tend to do that a lot…"

"I think I know what we can do," Sweeney said, gradually slipping back into his usual demeanor. "You say she's at Bedlam, correct?"

"That's the place," Anthony affirmed, still a bit distraught.

"They sell the girls' hair there," Sweeney explained. "What you two can do is pose as apprentices. To me."

"But why…?" Amelia began.

"If you ask for hair to make wigs with, he'll ask you what kind you want. As I recall, you'll be allowed inside a cell to pick the shade of your choosing."

"And we go in and say we want Johanna's?" Anthony asked, not quite understanding.

"You go in and take Johanna, and run," Sweeney replied. "You have to move feloniously quickly, and you need to know what to do if you get chased. I guarantee you're not going to go unnoticed."

"I see." Anthony's face lit up. "What can we bring, then? Shall I use my jackknife?"

Sweeney rolled his eyes. "If you want them to kill you, then yes. Use your knife."

"Well, what would you suggest?" Anthony snapped. "Uh…sir."

"Something with a little more force." He pulled open a drawer and withdrew his pistol. Anthony stayed put, mostly out of surprise.

"Well, would you like me to throw it to you? It's loaded, there's a good chance it'd explode," Sweeney offered, looking slightly amused. Hastily, Anthony stepped forward to take it.

"What will I do?" Amelia asked, still quite ashamed for her behavior.

"Anthony is the apprentice, and you're his servant." His eyes held a glint of mischief, which Anthony swore he'd never seen before in the entire year of knowing him.

"Okay." She quickly stepped back behind her friend.

"And we come here when we've got her," Anthony confirmed.

"Correct." He had gone back to sharpening his razors. "This time, no detours, if you don't mind."

"No, sir. None. We'll…um…wonderful plan, really."

"Go put it to action, or it's no use to anyone."

"Thank you for helping us so much," Anthony said gratefully, offering up a smile. Sweeney looked at him for several moments, and Amelia could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smile on the barber's face too.

Before she could stop herself, she ran up and hugged him, much to his chagrin. He stood there awkwardly, having absolutely no clue how to respond. Uncomfortably, he gave her quick pat on the back.

"I'm really very sorry," she assured him. "It won't happen again. And I didn't mean anything I said. You're not unfeeling at all, because I think you really do care about people. Sometimes, anyway."

"Come on, Amelia," Anthony nudged her towards the door. "You're rambling again."

Sweeney watched them go, and favored them with a flick of his hand that might have been a wave. Suddenly, he realized what he was doing. He dropped his arm and narrowed his eyes.

"Shut that door behind you! This room's freezing enough as it is."