AN: I DO NOT OWN ANY OF THE SWEENEY TODD: DEMON BARBER OF FLEET STREET FRANCHISE!
Me: Sorry if this chapter is complete rubbish.
Chapter Eight: Who'd Have Ever Thought It?
Mrs. Lovett's heart raced, pounding against her chest, threatening to break through the soft skin. She took in his expression, trying to read his thoughts, his intentions. Unfortunatly, he was as unreadable as he always was. Still there was something in his black eyes that astounded her, something she'd never seen in them before, but what she could not quite place. Still, whatever it was, it was there, and it held every secret to what he wanted to talk to her about tonight. Checking that the two children were well into their bedroom, Mrs. Lovett motioned towards the parlor and locked up her shop before following him in and closing the door behind her.
"Well Mr. T, what did ya need to talk to me about?" She asked, taking a seat on the couch, motioning for him to sit some place as well. Stiffly, he took a seat in the armchair across from her. She leaned forward, anxious to hear what he was going to tell her, wanting him to just say it as the curiosity was already eating away at her mind.
"Mrs. Lov- Margery," He said, trying to be casual, yet not quite using her nickname. Her heart beat faster still. He had said her name, drawing her meaning to him that much closer to his heart. "I have had some, troubling, thoughts this evening." His cold eyes stayed locked on her swirling amber ones. "Thoughts that might be helped." He finished, staring at her intently.
"What types o' thoughts Mistah T?" She asked, her heart beat still pounding, thudding in her eardrums and racing through her veins.
"Ever since I have been here Margery, you have shown an amount of affection for me most uncommon of that for a land lord to their tenant." He was still using her first name. "As you know, I have not had the company of a woman in nearly a full year." Her heart beat quickened to that of a rabbits. Her silence edged him further. "I am not asking you, nor commanding you, to do as I am asking you tonight." Her heart was no longer a heart but a thudding reminder against her chest. "Margery, Nellie, Mrs. Lovett, court you, may I?" He asked, fumbling over the last sentence. She hid a giggle at thr notion that the mass-murdering Sweeney Todd, who had no issues with giving her the meat off of his victims bones, would be one to fumble his words when merely asking a woman for courtship.
Blinking the thoughts away, she leaned in, nearly touching his lips with her own, and whispered one enchanting word;
"Yes," Now who'd have ever thought it?