A/N: Sweeney Todd does not belong to me.
Sweeney's Parlor
"So, do we have a deal, or should I run down the street to me old friend, Beadle bamford? What do you say to that noe, Mr. Sweeney Todd?"
Something inside the barber snapped violently. Grabbing the whistling teapot, he whipped it at Pirelli's face, knocking the man's head back. Hitting him again with enough force to make him fall, Sweeney continued to bludgeon the helpless form on the floor, blood pooling on the boards. Dropping the dented pot, he collapsed heavily into the barber chair, panting.
Mrs. Lovett's Pie Shop
Toby looked suspiciously at the ceiling where banging could be heard, his half-finished meat pie in front of him. Wanting to distract the boy, Mrs. Lovett whacked her rolling pin on the counter and shuffled some bowls to reproduce the noises. "My, my, my. Spick an' span, that's my motto. So, how'd you end up with that dreadful Italian anyway?"
"Got me from the workhouse," Toby replied. "Been there since I was born." He suddenly bolted upright, a fearful expression on his face. "Oh, God! He's got an appointment with his tailor! If he's late, he'll blame me!" Rushing to the door, the boy flung it open.
"Wait!" Mrs. Lovett hissed, but it was too late, for he was already climbing the stairs.
Five Minutes Earlier
Propping Pirelli against the back of the chair, Sweeney proceeded to methodically slit his wrists, collecting the blood in the tea kettle. When the pot was half filled, he set it on the table next to his razors and carried the man's inert body to the large trunk beside the door. Disposing it inside, the barber cleaned the mess, placing the kettle of blood on the stove.
Sweeney's Parlor
"Signor, you've got an appointment!" Bursting through the door, Toby scanned the room, eyes settling on Sweeney at the stove.
"Signor Pirelli's been called away," the barber said, holing a steaming mug in his hands. "Better run after him."
"No, sir, I should wait here," the boy insisted, backing into the trunk. "If I go, there'll be a lashin'. He's a good one for the lashings." Leaning on the trunk, Toby gazed at Sweeney imploringly.
Pirelli's dangling hand twitched, increasing Sweeney's nervousness. A deep moaning rose, startling the boy, who jumped and stared, mind struggling to grasp what he was seeing. Taking advantage of his confusion, the barber threw the mug of hot blood in Toby's face, seizing him roughly. Holding him securely with one hand, Sweeney flicked open his razor and swiftly slit the boy's throat, laying the convulsing body to the ground. Stepping over it, he crept to the trunk, lifting its lid, allowing Pirelli to stand painfully. Securing the weak man's forehead, the barber slowly sliced his blade through the soft flesh, crimson fluid staining his shirt. Letting the corpse drain of blood, he carefully pushed it into the trunk, cleaning his beloved friend.