Esteemed Malevolence

XVII: Surrender

Eleanor Lovett had waited for him all day.

She'd barely eaten anything. She'd planned on making a meal for him - something feast-like seeing as it was Boxing Day, but since he'd agreed to her proposal the day before in a round-about manner she wasn't going to get up and set to preparing a meal if he never intended to come down from his brooding quarters.

It wasn't until seven at night when she caught a sign of him.

She was sat in one of the booths inside her shop, tracing her finger around the rim of a shot-glass, looking into the empty tumbler with disappointment. Luckily, she'd had the sense to eat something once it had passed six, but that didn't stop the true hunger she felt.

Her heart twinged as loud stomps of his feet from upstairs told her that he was apparently alive. She gulped when she heard the tonsorial parlour's door slam - he was heading down there. She breathed out a shallow breath and sat up straight, smoothing out her skirts beneath the table. At the sound of his rushed footsteps on the stairs, she shuffled a small box into the centre of table, her hands then shaking as she snatched the gin bottle and filled up both glasses that she'd already set out on the table. She did this slowly, so at least she'd look busy once he entered.

The bell rang out and for once, he didn't allow the door to slam, he ensured it shut carefully - then dropped the latch. She wanted to turn around and curse at him for leaving her hanging all day, then again, she was truly happy that he had actually turned up.

"Mrs Lovett." Sweeney greeted, emotionless, heading over to her without a moment's hesitation.

"Mr T," she addressed back casually, smiling towards him as he sat down opposite her, his eyes scrutinising her body language like she was some sort of deranged demon, or perhaps an unwelcome alien. "been enjoyin' y'day off?"

He ignored her hint - she knew that he'd been pining away upstairs all to himself. He was aware of what she was implying and instead, decided to throw her off by actually giving her a direct reply.

"No."

She looked taken aback at his answer and opened her mouth to comment but he'd taken his eyes from her.

He frowned down at the card box on the table in front of him, as if it was the most foreign object he'd seen in his life. For once, in a very, very long time, Sweeney Todd felt a twinge of guilt.

She'd gifted him a present, and he hadn't even thought to give her one.

The guilty glimmer was soon smeared over with disinterest as he flicked his dark eyes up to rest them on the baker sat opposite him. She was gazing so longingly at him, her chin rested on her palm as her elbow held her up against the table's surface.

"I didn't get you one." he replied as emptily as he could, although he'd practically given his guilt away with his words.

"Don't matter, love," she said in a small, sad voice. "Never get anythin' from anyone anyway. So there's no change there."

He frowned at her, narrowing his eyes as he slid the box to the side, out of his view for now.

"Where's the boy?" the barber suddenly asked, still avoiding her eyes by staring at the table. She blinked in confusion at him.

"Toby? I dunno, Mr T. Strange 'at a child don't come back 'ome at the chance o' gettin' Christmas presents, ain't it?" she replied with a sad laugh, her eyes shining with hope that he'd look back at her. Internally she was genuinely concerned about the lad - she just prayed that he was with someone better off than her, not down a ditch dead somewhere...