So, chapters seven and eight were originally going to be one massive chapter, but... I decided to divide it in two. So this chapter is a bit slow, but believe me. What happens in chapter eight makes up for it. ;) Hopefully...

Mrs. Lovett was rolling and kneading dough in her shop, aggressively taking out all her frustrations with the help of her rolling pin. She and Mr. Todd hadn't so much as looked at each other since their little chat in front of the bakehouse.

Slam.

She had known. Her head had told her that he only cared about her because she disposed of his victims and did his laundry. But her stubborn heart wouldn't accept it.

Smash.

She paused, watching the flour swirl in the air around the wad of dough. His emotions changed so randomly; it drove her mad… There was absolutely no transition between his gentility and his hostility. Whenever she looked into his black eyes she had no way of knowing what would be reflected back at her.

All of a sudden, she sensed a shadow moving closely to the window of her shop, and she brought her head up to see whom it belonged to. And there he was, storming off to heaven knows where… He had done the same thing yesterday as well, in the bloody rain... Never once had she seen Mr. Todd willingly venture out on his own. Whenever she actually needed him to come with her to the marketplace, she had to plead for hours... Where was he going?

She closed her eyes. She was so tired… She had barely slept the past two nights. Nothing felt real to her in this constant state of consciousness.

Her head jerked up again as Toby crashed into the shop, laughing and waving off a group of boys. They were obviously from the workhouse, judging by the ratty state of them… He turned towards her, his expression of happiness quickly changing to confusion.

"Wot are ya doin', mum? I's Sunday! We're not open today," he said, his voice still rather cheery. She blinked at the boy, trying desperately to comprehend what he had just said.

"I's Sunday?" she asked, wiping the flour from her sweaty forehead.

"Yes mum. An'… an' I was wonderin'… could I run down to the market an' ge' some toffees? I'd really like somethin' sweet," he said, his eyes wide at the mere prospect of the candy.

Mrs. Lovett nodded, her head barely moving from exhaustion.

"Are you alrigh', mum?" Toby asked. He had noticed that Mrs. Lovett hadn't been her jovial self the past couple days. And he knew it was because of Mr. T… He despised what that horrible man did to her. Toby had noticed they had barely spoken since that horrendous, awful, dreadful night… And though he wished it could stay that way, he also knew how sad Mrs. Lovett was about it. So he was torn. The man that made Mrs. Lovett happy was also the one who reduced her to tears in half a heartbeat.

Mrs. Lovett smiled the shadow of a smile. "Yes, love. I'll be alrigh'. "Ere ya go," she said, her voice somewhere far away. She reached into the front of her dress to retrieve her coin purse; handing Toby three pennies. "After ya ge' those toffees, why don't ya run along to the park? I really need to catch a wink 'o' sleep…" she added.

Toby nodded. "Alrigh' mum. Thank you. I 'ope your nap does ya some good," he said. The boy was heartbreakingly honest; he wore his every emotion plainly on his face.

"Me too, love. Now run along, and be home before sunset." Toby nodded before scampering out into the street in the direction of the marketplace. After the boy escaped her sight, she somehow found the energy to drag her legs up the seemingly never-ending staircase. She wandered into her bedroom and mindlessly changed into her nightgown before collapsing onto her bed. Adjusting her body, she moved her head up to the cushion of the soft, down pillow. Her eyelids instantaneously fluttered shut.

And her mind drifted back to Mr. Todd.

She knew that what he said to her had taken a painstaken amount of work on his part. Sweeney Todd was supposed to be emotionless. Blank. Expressionless. Invincible.

'I don't like to see you hurt.'

His soothing baritone voice replayed that moment over and over in her overworked mind. Her heart lifted at the mere memory of the thing. He was trying, she realized. He was trying to reach out to her… So it was working. She was slowly chipping away at the unforgiving stone wall around his temporarily lifeless heart.

All good things come to those who can…

Her voice sang, half whispering her familiar lyrics; falling fast asleep before even finishing the phrase.

Hours passed, and the moon slowly arose to replace the sun in the gloomy sky. Mrs. Lovett finally awoke, feeling extremely relaxed. She kept her eyes closed, enjoying the sensation well-restedness brought her. Every single muscle in her body was loose; her mind not focused on any one thing… Until her eyes spotted a daisy lying on the pillow next to hers.

She propped herself up on her elbows, admiring the optimistic flower and the way the yellow center contrasted against the white all around it. She brought it up to her nose, inhaling the sweet floral scent. She smiled. Toby must have bought it for her from the market, or maybe found some in the park… But no matter. She just couldn't understand how a boy could have the horrible childhood Toby had, and still be as sweet and caring as he was. It was the simple, little things like this that made Mrs. Lovett smile.

With the delicate flower still in her grasp, Mrs. Lovett made her way down the stairs, cold on her bare feet, and into the living room. Toby was sitting on the couch, bottle of gin half-empty in his hand.

"'Ello, mum! You're looking much better; your nap did ya some good, then?" Toby asked, his voice bright. Mrs. Lovett sat down on the chair opposite him, grinning as she again brought the daisy up to her nose.

"Yes, love, it did. Can't tell ya 'ow much better I feel," she said, smiling down at the flower's yellow center. "So you 'ad a nice outing in the park then?"

"Yeah, I did. I really liked seein' all my friends from the workhouse. We 'ad a pretend swordfight down by the river, an' it wos real fun," Toby said, his eyes aglow from the memories of his day.

"Tha's really nice dear," Mrs. Lovett said, her eyes surveying the boy as he took a gulp of gin. She then glanced down at her daisy. "Toby, did ya put this flower on me pillow whilst I wos sleepin'?" He looked up at her, his face painted with puzzlement.

"No mum, I didn't. I jus' got home when you came downstairs," he said, bringing the bottle back up to his lips. Most children were raised on milk from their bottles. Toby had been raised on gin.

Mrs. Lovett's eyebrows twisted up with perplexity. "Well… if you didn', than who…" A tidal wave of realization settled over her, numbing her every nerve. She couldn't let herself consider that possibility… She carefully planted the flower behind her ear before rising to her feet. "Well, don't stay up too much later, dear. You've 'ad a long day, alrigh'?" She said, placing a kiss in his mess of hair.

"Yes mum. Good nigh'," he said, settling into his place on the sofa and closing his eyes. Mrs. Lovett allowed her fingers to linger on his shoulder before walking into the kitchen. She warily eyed the door that led up to his place. No. It wasn't possible… She remembered mentioning to him once that she was rather fond of daisies, and that his parlor could use some for a touch of gentility… She traced a petal of the flower in her hair with her middle finger, and took a deep breath before she stepped outside to ascend the stairs to his room.