Esteemed Malevolence

IV: The Quick-Fix Strategy

 The next day a battalion of clouds rumbled over London, firing down their droplets of rain with no mercy. As a consequence of such heinous weather, the city was fairly deserted compared to its usual bustling, shoulder-to-shoulder cramped streets and smog filled skies. The obsidian clouds weren't going to disappear anytime soon, they made that perfectly clear with their restless rain. 

Business everywhere was certainly going to be slow today, especially for Mr Todd and Mrs Lovett - no one was going to venture out for a shave or a hot pie in such dreadful weather.

Due to the murder-couple's odd 'usual' customers that returned to their establishments almost religiously (they had to have their regulars, otherwise people would start to notice that no one came back out of the barber shop - living, at least), they had both kept their shops open even though they'd had next to no business. Having so much time now that all their habitual clients had been, the partners in crime had both intricately devised individual plans on how they were to tackle their mysterious council problem - and both of them had a feeling Beadle Bamford would have something to do with it, seeing as he was the so-called authority in their parts.

Mr Todd stood by his skylight, gaze empty as he looked down over Fleet Street. Wide puddles had cultivated over the cobbles, he could tell where the inconsistent road was when he spied the deeper looking ones. The rain had no empathy, beating down over the floor, and of course, onto any soul that happened to be travelling out in it. 

He held up an arm to the peeling wall for support, just so he could stand there scowling out of his window for a moment longer. The barber should have been shitting a brick by now - like Mrs Lovett was downstairs - but he didn't show any sort of bother, even if he was internally, unmistakably irked by what he'd heard from the apparent councillor the night prior. His thoughts had tossed aside his revenge, and all he'd been focusing on that day was some sort of plan - he couldn't have his little slaughterhouse operation being compromised. He'd surely have to burn such a report, there was no way the review would be positive in any way - a man of council surely wouldn't approve of pies filled with the ex-customers of the barber upstairs. Mr Todd's eyebrows furrowed into a more concerned frown - he didn't recall the man mentioning Mrs Lovett's bake-house when he'd spoken, which must have been seen for a fully fledged inspection.

 At least, that's what he presumed.

'What if 'e'd snuck in there? Mrs Lovett wouldn't 'ave even noticed him skulkin' in - hell  I wouldn't 'ave. 'E could be talkin to the law now for all I know... or just bidin' 'is unfortunate time... waitin' to tell all of 'is corrupt council pals as soon as 'e hands in 'is stinking account ...' he told himself, his eyes narrowing in distraction as they latched onto two twirling figures through the window - a man in a suit and top-hat, a woman in a rather expensive frilly dress - on the other side of the street, who were seemingly celebrating the fact it was raining. 

The two of them were absolutely soaked, yet almost looked like they were having the best time of their lives. Their silhouettes danced around, and Mr Todd could just imagine the sickening sounds of the two of them laughing or even singing as more bucket-loads of water poured onto them, their bodies drenched to their bones. 

They seemed happy. 

And suddenly, Sweeney Todd realised that he no longer missed how care-free he had been when he was Benjamin. He now found it truly disgusting, and indeed foolish.

He tore away from the sight in disgust and began to pace (more like stomp) over his floorboards, gaze ablaze like the couple's happiness had made his thirst for vengeance - sorry, murder - writhe under his skin. His thoughts were escalated, causing his blood to rush around him in a vicious rage.