Esteemed Malevolence

I: Bottles Filled With Anger

Mrs Lovett was delusional, devoted and dazedly in love with the barber she slaved herself to the bone for in that dreadful bake house. Clearly, being so selfish and single minded, the murderous man never once thanked her for what she did for him. Not when she'd climb those steep stairs (even in deep snow) to set a tray of food down for him. Not when she'd wash the flaked, grisly blood out of his clothes or mend any torn shirts that he'd acquired from his bloodthirsty act. And of course, certainly not when she worked down in the bake-house until god knows what hour to chop up the kills he'd gotten that day.

Yet he would occasionally moan about etiquette to her whenever he rarely spoke. Even though that was entirely hypocritical of him since he never damn used his! "Whatever happened to manners in this world?" he would often comment whenever he found his voice, not wanting an actual answer from her, or at least he blocked her reply out if he did get one.

The fact she was receiving less recognition every day that went by, really grated on her nerves - in the last week he had grunted less and less, until he never even hummed for her to continue jabbering on. So, she'd just huffed and stormed out of his room, making sure she let the door slam to make that infernal bell ring his ears.

But don't think she was an innocent little mouse in all of this.

She always got her own back. Of course, to any bystander she seemed to just slave away for him and live most of her life in her expectant daydreams that she always had, yet she would always find a way of getting her own revenge on him. Even if it would be the tiniest thing.

And nine times out of ten, Sweeney Todd was utterly oblivious to her scheming ways.

To him, she was a dizzy, ditsy baker who just did... whatever she did, because he never paid any attention to what she actually did with her life. Yet little did he know, that if he scratched at that innocent, dreamy surface she plastered on every day, it would reveal a whole new person to him...

... someone who was clever, cunning and calculating, rather like he was. However she was quicker than him to express her ideas, which more often than not involved something unorthodox and inhuman; yet this was not always a blessed gift, as it got her into some right palavers with what she often let out of her mouth or even when she let her mind wander...

And sometimes, particular feelings she had would then be bottled up and stored away inside her, unseen for anyone's preaching eyes. But from time to time, these feelings would re-emerge, stirring a whole rush of that particular emotion in a single sonic wave all the way through her.

And all of the irritation, this fury she had always held back from the barber, had one day reached her bottle's top...

And for once, that very bottle top was blown clean off.

"Brought some hot tea for ya love." she said, tray with a precariously placed teapot on it in one hand, the other hand closed the door with care, ensuring that there was no noise to disturb the barber. "I made sure it wasn't too hot, I know y'don't like it when it's awful hot."

He didn't say a word as he stared out of his clear panes, his arm rested on the edge of the window frame, as he narrowed his eyes over the murky, mucky London skyline. She set the tray on his desk, cautiously moving some objects on his vanity to place it there.

After doing so, Eleanor turned, hands on her hips as she rolled her eyes at him.

Oh, surprise surprise.

It was the same old bloody Sweeney Todd routine: She leaves the tray. She stands. He doesn't move, doesn't say a word. She attempts to have a conversation. He (up until recently) grunts along yet is truly deaf to her. She sighs. She knows she's not wanted. She leaves him in peace.