Her heart rattled violently against her ribcage. "Mr. Todd…?" She asked, her voice a breathy whisper.
She turned slowly to face him.
He hadn't moved from his position in the chair, but now his eyes were open. She saw many emotions in them—surprise, anger, and an undeniable sadness. His fingers were frozen on her skin. "Sit," he said. She sat.
"Mr. T, I didn't….I mean, if I'd have known I wouldn't have…" Her voice trailed off, leaving her sentence unfinished.
He wasn't looking at her anymore—his eyes were fixed on the ceiling.
"Er…I should go…"
"NO!" He snarled.
Mrs. Lovett bit her lip, her stomach churning and her heart aching. He still didn't say anything.
The silence was deafening.
She wanted to return downstairs, though she knew sleep would be impossible. "Mrs. Lovett."
His voice interrupted her thoughts. It was tired and weak, with a threat of violence in it. She swallowed. "Yes, Mr. T?" She breathed.
"Stop crying."
She hadn't known she had been crying, but as soon as he mentioned it, she felt the salty sting of tears on her cheek. "Sorry." Her voice was sniffly and choked.
He didn't reply. It was an awkward silence, broken only by her stuffy tears and a gentle wind blowing against the window. Mrs. Lovett hated the silence—it suffocated her. She began to speak. "When did you wake up?"
He snorted—a noise so foreign to her she jumped. "I was never asleep," he said. "I thought, if I ignored you, you would go away."