Sweeney glanced up disinterestedly from his slouched posture in his barber's chair, eyeing Mrs. Lovett as she went about his room, fussing over things she had fussed over not three minutes ago; humming and chattering, guessing and pacing and calculating, envisioning and asking.

From his point of view, her back was to him and her fingers drumming on her hips, and Sweeney found himself absentmindedly admiring the fiery halo of blood ringlets that corkscrewed this way and that, clustered together in a meager bun. The day was extraordinarily bright and sunny and downright wonderful, and the light shone in through the small window beside the door, igniting her tangles to a blazed orange. If only she ever stop talking, he'd might've actually thought of saying to her how her hair looked nice.

But of course she didn't; so Sweeney stayed as silent as the grey corpse he was, lips pulled tense in a frown but eyes soft as he watched maroon curls bob and swing and tumble in heavenly distraction.

Mrs. Lovett stopped abruptly, her hands held up in the direction of the window, her thumbs and pointer fingers poised as a frame. She quirked her lips, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.

''How about we add more windows and such in 'ere, love? Open it up and le' some sunshine in, we could.'' She mused, her dreamy tone - why, he didn't know - irritated him more than what she's asking of him. ''Could use some sunlight - it's so bloomin' dark in 'ere. But then again s'not like it's usually this lovely o' weather, so maybe I've gotten too much sun an' now I've gone a lit'le loopy; would yer say I've gone loopy, Mr. T?''

A soft grunt came from him, and he pulled his unintentionally rapacious gaze away from her enrapturing beauty - bitch.

''Oh, I know - why don't we get some new wallpaper? A cheery blue, per'aps? That'd be good for business, Mr. T, too - costumer's don't like 'ow gloomy it is in 'ere, don't want 'em leavin' just 'cuz you're wallpaper is old and crumplin', now do yah?''

''Lucy picked the wallpaper.'' He muttered, staring at some spot on the floor, his feet shifting on the floor in his dis-ease. Mrs. Lovett stopped, pursing her lips - all the better reason to get rid of it, then.

Sweeney stood up from his chair, and slid to the window, his razor opening and closing by his side. Mrs. Lovett set her dusting cloth down on the chest, before walking over to stand in front of him.

''Might be the time to get rid of it, eh love?" Mrs. Lovett whispered gently, like a farmer trying to coax a frightened horse out of a thicket of thorns. That was basically what he was, anyhow, she figured: a scared, dangerous, beautiful beast. She tilted her head up to look at him sideways, trying to read him from a different angle, hoping it'd become clearer despite her smarting neck and back.

Sweeney scowled, glaring down at her and surprisingly, his eyes were solely on her. His warmth rallied her pulse, his smell inebriated her, his eyes pulled her in as easily as the sea - oh God, did she ever love him, even more so, now, as he looked with such unusual intensity.

And then, she saw his eyes flicker down to her lips, saw him gulp. Her heart pounded in her chest from their close proximity, and she longed to sink into his chest and remain with him always. She longed for him to let her love him. Unsurely, she smiled up at him from behind her eyelashes; a twisting up-turn of her cherry lips that he wouldn't let himself grow too fondly of - though something told him he already was.

Maybe…

Before she lost her confidence - or perhaps it was merely panic - Mrs. Lovett grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer by his collar - her eyes wide, a haplessly languid doe caught in the burning lights of the man's attention - and she kissed him.

Stunned, he fell against her, finding himself motionless as her mouth slammed into his. He could practically feel the desperation radiating off her warming skin from her tight consternation. She kissed him, her eyes squeezed shut as if she expected to be punched, kicked, and pushed off. But he didn't, he didn't do anything.

Before she became too embarrassed to ever stop pressing her mouth to his, before she just couldn't stop and face his rejection, Mrs. Lovett pulled herself harshly away from his unresponsive lips. She let her hands drop heavily on his shoulders, looking down at his shoes with pricking tears starting to well up.

She took a step back.

''M'so sorry - Mr. Todd.'' A too-cheery laugh, a pat on his chest. ''Don't know wot came over me.''

She didn't dare to look up at him; though she hated herself to oblivion for being so hopelessly hopeful, so ignorantly believing in this completely irrational belief, that he might say something to make her stay - that he'd show her he cared, even just a little, and even if it was for what she could give him.

She left herself linger, her legs hesitating as they trembled; she was trying to move to the door quicker without giving another pathetic apology, or, at least, with whatever scrap of dignity - she dared to say - she had left.

Finally, with a quivering breath, she felt her wobbly legs start to move, she brushed past him - who would she be if she could've resisted touching him one last time? - and she went to reach for the door.

Hand latched to the doorknob, she was spun around and slammed against the wood. Her premature squeak of surprise was cut off abruptly by Sweeney's lips devouring her - and, by the way, she wasted no time in kissing him back, insufferable man. Their teeth clashed, sharp intakes through their noses the only sound audible above the rush of her head, Mrs. Lovett whimpered into him as a cool hand ran up her arm. He grabbed the base of her head, his fingers pressing and kneading, and she felt his tongue skimming possessively along her lower lip.

Too happily she obliged, opening her mouth to his probing tongue and she let him dominate every inch of her. Sweeney's arm snaked around her back, crushing her against him as if he were trying to fuse their heated flesh together, forever become one; he pulled her lower half off the door whilst pinning her shoulders to the window, smirking when her leg slide up his.

Unfortunately, the need for breath in their aching lungs grew too obvious, and when their mouths unlatched, her head fell back on the door. Panting, she smirked up at him; letting her eyes slip shut as his hand caressed her skin and moved to toy with a fallen curl behind her ear.

''Mrs. Lovett - '' She looked up at him, her chest heaving, face flushed, her smirk smoothing out into a brilliant, loving smile.

''Sweeney,'' she whispered,

''...I...'' he whispered just as she did, pausing as if expecting her to continue, then, ''Maybe, my love...''

She liked to think he almost smiled back.