Esteemed Malevolence

VII: The Green Eyed Monster

It had been roughly three weeks since the broom cupboard incident.

Both barber and baker had spoke nothing of that day - and for once they were both opposites.

Mrs Lovett had barely uttered a word to him once she'd returned back from the council hall to her shop, and had remained silent whenever she was around him - she supposed she was giving him what he wanted, but she was past caring. Nothing else had changed between them, she still did her usual duties of body disposal, and of course, providing for the infuriating barber.

Unlike Mr Todd, who was dying to bring up the subject of what had happened, just to see her in a situation that she had no clue how to handle - he found it fascinating to watch her when she was awestruck or angered.

He hated to admit that he'd rather liked the strange encounter they'd had together, even enjoyed the look of desperation on his accomplice's face as he'd left her wanting more. He kept denying that internally he'd wanted to carry on with what they were doing just as much as she did - he'd snatch at any chance he'd get like that again. He knew that she wouldn't be so hasty to reject him, even though he was well aware that what he'd done had left her feeling more than a bit "used". Recently, he would often find himself thinking of her at times when he should have been focusing on the task at hand... sometimes that was quite literally.

Like on this particular evening in mid December, he was busy at work, razor perched perfectly in his palm. The man he was shaving chattered aimlessly, directing his speech towards his wife and young son, who had rather annoyingly joined the man for his trip to the barbers. It was also a blessing that the man was ignoring the artful barber, because Mr Todd's ears pricked up every time he spoke. It was obvious that the man irritated him - it was unfortunate that Mr Todd would have to hold his sarcastic tongue, let alone his twitchy razor.

As the silver blade glided across the man's stubble-washed neck, Sweeney managed to lose himself in his own thoughts. The nattering was soon background noise to his real focus as he stared back at the slit of his reflection in the razor.

He was telling himself to concentrate on his ambition, his revenge... but he couldn't get the image, or the feel of his accomplice out of his head.

That look of longing in her eyes as she gazed at him, those sodden locks pressed onto her face, her damp clothes brushing against him, her hands clutching frantically at his hair...

... in that memory of her, that desperate look she wore was somewhat warped, and held something deeper that he could not fully comprehend.

He hated thinking about her.

It certainly wasn't right that he was letting her in.

Yet he decided that Sweeney Todd was never one for doing things right, so there was no need to be getting annoyed at himself for thinking about the woman in such an intimate way...

... after all, it wasn't as if the baker was going to get in the way of his vengeance, in fact she was already aiding him enormously - and she'd only encouraged him in the first place.

Now he thought back, his train of thought actually seemed plausible.

He circled around the chair so he could reach the other side of the customer's nape - the man was still rambling to his family, rather excitedly about some happy nonsense. Mr Todd hated how fast he was talking, and how high pitched - the man couldn't have been that joyous, surely? Mr Todd paused a moment, using a pristine white cloth to wipe his razor clean, risking a glance out of his window.

London was a backdrop of black outside, faint glows of gas-lamps in the distance revealed the subliminal shadows that crept along the cobbles.

'How could someone with a family feel happy here?' he asked himself, spotting a few more hunched silhouettes further away, ears being attacked by the drivel of mumbled conversation from behind him. 'This is as close to a living hell that you can get. It's infested with vermin! Surely they must see the danger?'