@sweeney-todds Continued from (x)
Todd’s work had been exceptionally tiring, as one after another gentlemen passed through his shop’s door, and placed themselves in his chair. With each chime of the bell, his attention was grasped by what may await him– the judge– the beadle? But no such satisfaction stepped his way. Yet.
Still, he managed to pick and choose who would be easy to dispose of without alerting too much suspicion, therefore managing to provide Mrs. Lovett downstairs with enough meat to satisfy her shop’s dinner rushes.
The barber spent the majority of his days on his feet, and his nights restless, leading to exhaustion. At each moment of the day, he could feel the weight of every ounce of his body, weighted down by his limbs and head and such. It was as if he was ill, or hungover, but never recovered. The were rare opportunities to escape though.
One of those rare escapes was a taste of peaceful rest.
He had closed his shop down for the day, and collapsed into the rigged chair at the center of his shop. It was his intention to just rest his eyes, but before he knew it, an hour had passed.
Todd was still asleep when Mrs. Lovett had headed upstairs to check on him. His head was tilted to the side and each breath he took was soft and gentle.
Gentle… Like the touch of the hand above his knee, where the baker’s sat for that moment. The sleeping Mr. Todd’s hand joined Nellie’s, as he placed it upon hers, engaging with the pleasant radiation of heat and comfort that comes off the living body of another.
Mrs.Lovett had meant to check on Sweeney earlier, but the dinner rush had been particularly busy that night, and she was already dead tired from the rest of the long week. But it was Saturday, which meant they had all of tomorrow to relax. It also meant that she could stay up as late as she wanted tonight, which meant she had no problem with visiting Mr.Todd at such a late hour.
She was surprised to see the outlined silhouette of him sitting in his chair as she approached the glass door, and even more surprised when she entered the shop and saw his head slouched to one side, eyes closed, mouth hanging slightly open. So he did sleep. Sometimes, she wondered.
She ought to have left the room, and gone back down to eat dinner by herself. But he was so peaceful, and as she slowly approached the chair, her heart absolutely melted. The crease between his eyebrows was gone, and the tension he held in his shoulders and back had disappeared as well. And he was beautiful. Even with his worry lines and matted hair, the moonlight made him look like a god. Before she knew it, she was kneeling on the ground beside him, She didn’t know if she should wake him or not. Part of her wanted to move him downstairs, lay him down in bed where he wouldn’t hurt his back. But she knew what little sleep he got was precious, and so instead she simply laid a hand on his lap, pretending that for just one moment, things were alright.
He was warm, despite his cold and stern aura. His pants were stained with blood again, and she made a mental note to wash them. She froze when she felt him stir, but when his hand moved to touch hers, she froze in place, half fearful that she’d waken him, and half in shock that he was touching her. Her eyes stayed locked on his face, waiting breathlessly for him to settle back down and fall back asleep. It didn’t take long, and once she was sure he was out again, she couldn’t help herself from gently resting her head in his lap as well, pressing her face against the back of his hand as she allowed her eyes to close as well.
