OOC: Log Post
[Who] Sweeney Todd and Mrs. Lovett
[When] A few hours ago
[Where] Sweeney's shop
[What] Sweeney is Not Happy, because of this thread and Mrs. Lovett trys to calm him down
[Why] It was begging to be logged!
[Anything Else] Two logs in one day. We obviously win. Also, contains spoilers.
Mrs. Lovett had heard a shrill crash like the sound of breaking glass before Sweeney had asked to see her, and she had an idea of what had happened. She tucked bandages and a bottle of alcohol under her arm and made her way cautiously up the wooden stairs to his barber shop. She pushed open the door and frowned, furrowing her eyebrows as she realized her assumptions had been correct.
Sweeney looked up from his position, slightly hunched over in the barber's chair. In his fit of rage, caused by the realization that the damned judge was still alive, he had punched through one of the large panes of glass on the shop's window. His fist had easily passed through the glass, but some of the shards had become lodged in his hand, and the wounds were slowly dripping blood on the floor.
Mrs. Lovett shut the door quickly behind her and rushed to Sweeney's side, taking his torn hand into her own and examining it carefully. She shivered as a slightly cold breeze blew in through the missing window pane. She furrowed her eyebrows deeply and met Sweeney's eyes. "Mr. T..." she sighed, her voice soft and airy. She paused briefly before standing and going to the faucet. "Hold it right there, love. I'll get you cleaned up." She ran warm water into a tin basin and grabbed a wash cloth from beside the mirror where Sweeney's razors lay in their open case.
He turned away from her as she filled the basin. "How is he still alive?" He hissed. "I killed him. I tore his bloody throat open. How did he survive that?"
Mrs. Lovett picked up the basin as the water reached a desirable height and set it carefully on the floor beside the chair. She kneeled down and took another look at Sweeney's hand. There were two shards lodged in the hand that looked like they were the source of most of the bleeding. She carefully began to pull one of them from the wound, resting her index finger gentley over the opening to prevent excess bleeding. She looked up at Sweeney. "I don't know, but you should really be more worried about your wounds than that right now," she replied. "You killed him and he became dinner for several people. Of course he's dead."
Sweeney didn't flinch as she pulled the shard out, but his uninjured hand slowly curled into a fist. "We'll just have to kill him again, then. Chop him into pieces."
Mrs. Lovett sighed deeply and carefully pulled out the other shard. She picked up a pair of pliera she'd wrapped up in the bandages and began to pull out the smaller shards. "Mr. Todd..." she sighed and dipped the wash cloth into the warm water and pressed it firmly but gently to Sweeney's hand.
He turned his gaze back to her, brows furrowed in frustration. "What?"
Mrs. Lovett looked up at him, her eyes sad, and her hands stopped nursing his wounds for a moment. She shook her head and dropped her hands, reaching for the alcohol and dabbing a bit of it onto the cloth.
"Hopefully we won't have to wait long this time..." His right hand curled and uncurled, wanting to feel the comforting weight of one of his precious silver razors in his hand. "He said himself that he'll be 'visiting' soon..."
Mrs. Lovett lifted the cloth to press to Sweeney's hand again. "This might sting a bit," she warned, though she doubted he was paying attention or hearing her voice. She pressed the cloth gently to the wounds and began to clean the blood away.
Sweeney gritted his teeth as she cleaned the cuts on his hand, but didn't say a word. After she finished, he finally spoke. "You didn't have to do this. I could've handled it myself."
Mrs. Lovett shook her head insistently. "I've got to make sure it's done right," she replied, not looking up at him. "Can't have you hurting yourself and not healing properly. Could interfere with your revenge, havin' a weak hand." She said the words dully, but with enough voice to hold Sweeney's attention as she spoke.
A small, humorless smile crossed Sweeney's face as he laughed. "I can still take my revenge just fine. My right hand is unharmed."
"Never know," Mrs. Lovett replied flatly. She pulled the cloth away and examined the wound again, watching it with concern. She sighed again and set her hands in her lap, her lips trembling slightly as she watched the slowing bleeding on Sweeney's hand.
His smile quickly turned into a frown, and his brows furrowed again. "What's wrong?"
Mrs. Lovett shook her head and looked up at Sweeny from under her eyelashes. "I worry about you, Mr. T," she replied quietly.
"You don't have to," He said flatly. "I'll be fine."
Mrs. Lovett pressed her lips gently to Sweeney's bleeding hand. "I can't help it," she said. She could taste the metallic flavor of Sweeney's blood on her lips and she could smell it's copper scent.
Sighing, Sweeney turned his injured hand slightly, brushing his thumb against her cheek. "Worrying won't do you any good."
Mrs. Lovett licked her lips slowly and the metallic taste became stronger. She let her eyes flutter closed as she took a deep breath, leaning into Sweeney's touch. After a moment she reopened her eyes and looked up from underneath dark lashes again. "Brooding over the judge won't do you good either, but you still do it," she argued. "Please, let me worry about you."
"... Alright then," He said, after a short pause. Turning his attention back to his injury, he pulled his hand away from her cheek, examining the cuts. "Can this be wrapped up now?"
"Thank you, my love." Mrs. Lovett nodded slowly, pulling herself back to full attentiveness. Her eyes trailed over Sweeney's body once, quickly and subtly. She picked up the bandages from next to the water basin, dropping the bloddied cloth in the water in exchange. She took Sweeney's hand into her own and began wrapping the gauze slowly around his hand to cover his knuckles.
Sweeney muttered a quick 'thank you' as she finished wrapping his hand. He stood, making his way over to the large window of his shop. Cold air continued to blow through the broken pane, but he ignored it. His full attention was focused on the street below. The judge had said he would come again, so there was nothing left to do but wait. He turned to the small table by the chair, slowly lifting one of the silver razors out of the box and flipping it open. This one held a special significance to him, as it had been the one to take Turpin's life. And it'll be the one that'll do it again, he thought, staring down at the shining blade.
Mrs. Lovett stood and went to the window, setting her hands on her hips. "This is ridiculous, Mr. T," she muttered. "What you s'pose we're gonna patch this window up with 'til we get the money to replace the pane? S'comin' out of your profits, of course."
"Cover it with a sheet or something," He said, his gaze still focused on the razor. "We can get ahold of someone tomorrow."
Mrs. Lovett nodded and turned to look at Sweeney. She bridged the distance between then and leaned closer to him, watching his razor for a moment before looking into a gaze that only ever seemed to look through her.
Flipping the blade closed, he tucked it into the holder in his belt. "He better come soon," He growled softly, almost to himself.
Mrs. Lovett forced a smile. "I'm sure he'll come here lookin' for you," she offered, "Trying to get you sent off again, most likely. Just have patience, my love. He'll be dead again soon and you can go back to thinking about the future."
"Patience," Sweeney laughed. "I tried having patience. Those fifteen long years. Even after I came back..." He turned away from her, beginning to pace in front of the window. "I do not wish to wait that long for someone who's supposed to be dead."
Mrs. Lovett crossed her arms and made a frustrated face. She had patience to deal with Sweeney's obsessive antics usually, but the return of the judge seemed like an event made to snatch Sweeney out of her reach again. The distance had been placed between them again. "Well that's all what you can do right now, Mr. Todd. Unless you want to hunt him down and risk exposing yourself."
He stopped pacing, and weighed the two options; wait for god knows how long and get away with murdering the bastard, or hunt him down, and possibly be deported. ".... Fine." He said, almost forcing the word out. "I'll wait."
Mrs. Lovett smiled. Another victory over a stubborn man. "It's for the best." She went to his side again, placing her hand gently on his left arm and tilting her neck to look into Sweeney's eyes. "Calmed down yet?"
Sweeney nodded. "A bit." It was not a total lie. He did feel calmer he did when he was talking to the judge, but the anger, the desire to see his razor sinking into the man's neck, was still there.
Mrs. Lovett dared to press a little closer to him, her dress brushing against his leg. She laid her head against his arm. "Patience, love, patience. You'll have him."
Her actions did not go unnoticed, but he did not do anything to encourage them. "And this time I'll make sire he stays dead."
Mrs. Lovett backed away after giving Sweeney's shoulder a light, comforting squeeze. "Of course," she muttered. "Good night, Mr. Todd. I really should be off to bed now." She turned went to open the door to the shop. "You should try to rest too. I worry about you, I do." She shook her head and was out the door and down the stairs without another word.
[When] A few hours ago
[Where] Sweeney's shop
[What] Sweeney is Not Happy, because of this thread and Mrs. Lovett trys to calm him down
[Why] It was begging to be logged!
[Anything Else] Two logs in one day. We obviously win. Also, contains spoilers.
Mrs. Lovett had heard a shrill crash like the sound of breaking glass before Sweeney had asked to see her, and she had an idea of what had happened. She tucked bandages and a bottle of alcohol under her arm and made her way cautiously up the wooden stairs to his barber shop. She pushed open the door and frowned, furrowing her eyebrows as she realized her assumptions had been correct.
Sweeney looked up from his position, slightly hunched over in the barber's chair. In his fit of rage, caused by the realization that the damned judge was still alive, he had punched through one of the large panes of glass on the shop's window. His fist had easily passed through the glass, but some of the shards had become lodged in his hand, and the wounds were slowly dripping blood on the floor.
Mrs. Lovett shut the door quickly behind her and rushed to Sweeney's side, taking his torn hand into her own and examining it carefully. She shivered as a slightly cold breeze blew in through the missing window pane. She furrowed her eyebrows deeply and met Sweeney's eyes. "Mr. T..." she sighed, her voice soft and airy. She paused briefly before standing and going to the faucet. "Hold it right there, love. I'll get you cleaned up." She ran warm water into a tin basin and grabbed a wash cloth from beside the mirror where Sweeney's razors lay in their open case.
He turned away from her as she filled the basin. "How is he still alive?" He hissed. "I killed him. I tore his bloody throat open. How did he survive that?"
Mrs. Lovett picked up the basin as the water reached a desirable height and set it carefully on the floor beside the chair. She kneeled down and took another look at Sweeney's hand. There were two shards lodged in the hand that looked like they were the source of most of the bleeding. She carefully began to pull one of them from the wound, resting her index finger gentley over the opening to prevent excess bleeding. She looked up at Sweeney. "I don't know, but you should really be more worried about your wounds than that right now," she replied. "You killed him and he became dinner for several people. Of course he's dead."
Sweeney didn't flinch as she pulled the shard out, but his uninjured hand slowly curled into a fist. "We'll just have to kill him again, then. Chop him into pieces."
Mrs. Lovett sighed deeply and carefully pulled out the other shard. She picked up a pair of pliera she'd wrapped up in the bandages and began to pull out the smaller shards. "Mr. Todd..." she sighed and dipped the wash cloth into the warm water and pressed it firmly but gently to Sweeney's hand.
He turned his gaze back to her, brows furrowed in frustration. "What?"
Mrs. Lovett looked up at him, her eyes sad, and her hands stopped nursing his wounds for a moment. She shook her head and dropped her hands, reaching for the alcohol and dabbing a bit of it onto the cloth.
"Hopefully we won't have to wait long this time..." His right hand curled and uncurled, wanting to feel the comforting weight of one of his precious silver razors in his hand. "He said himself that he'll be 'visiting' soon..."
Mrs. Lovett lifted the cloth to press to Sweeney's hand again. "This might sting a bit," she warned, though she doubted he was paying attention or hearing her voice. She pressed the cloth gently to the wounds and began to clean the blood away.
Sweeney gritted his teeth as she cleaned the cuts on his hand, but didn't say a word. After she finished, he finally spoke. "You didn't have to do this. I could've handled it myself."
Mrs. Lovett shook her head insistently. "I've got to make sure it's done right," she replied, not looking up at him. "Can't have you hurting yourself and not healing properly. Could interfere with your revenge, havin' a weak hand." She said the words dully, but with enough voice to hold Sweeney's attention as she spoke.
A small, humorless smile crossed Sweeney's face as he laughed. "I can still take my revenge just fine. My right hand is unharmed."
"Never know," Mrs. Lovett replied flatly. She pulled the cloth away and examined the wound again, watching it with concern. She sighed again and set her hands in her lap, her lips trembling slightly as she watched the slowing bleeding on Sweeney's hand.
His smile quickly turned into a frown, and his brows furrowed again. "What's wrong?"
Mrs. Lovett shook her head and looked up at Sweeny from under her eyelashes. "I worry about you, Mr. T," she replied quietly.
"You don't have to," He said flatly. "I'll be fine."
Mrs. Lovett pressed her lips gently to Sweeney's bleeding hand. "I can't help it," she said. She could taste the metallic flavor of Sweeney's blood on her lips and she could smell it's copper scent.
Sighing, Sweeney turned his injured hand slightly, brushing his thumb against her cheek. "Worrying won't do you any good."
Mrs. Lovett licked her lips slowly and the metallic taste became stronger. She let her eyes flutter closed as she took a deep breath, leaning into Sweeney's touch. After a moment she reopened her eyes and looked up from underneath dark lashes again. "Brooding over the judge won't do you good either, but you still do it," she argued. "Please, let me worry about you."
"... Alright then," He said, after a short pause. Turning his attention back to his injury, he pulled his hand away from her cheek, examining the cuts. "Can this be wrapped up now?"
"Thank you, my love." Mrs. Lovett nodded slowly, pulling herself back to full attentiveness. Her eyes trailed over Sweeney's body once, quickly and subtly. She picked up the bandages from next to the water basin, dropping the bloddied cloth in the water in exchange. She took Sweeney's hand into her own and began wrapping the gauze slowly around his hand to cover his knuckles.
Sweeney muttered a quick 'thank you' as she finished wrapping his hand. He stood, making his way over to the large window of his shop. Cold air continued to blow through the broken pane, but he ignored it. His full attention was focused on the street below. The judge had said he would come again, so there was nothing left to do but wait. He turned to the small table by the chair, slowly lifting one of the silver razors out of the box and flipping it open. This one held a special significance to him, as it had been the one to take Turpin's life. And it'll be the one that'll do it again, he thought, staring down at the shining blade.
Mrs. Lovett stood and went to the window, setting her hands on her hips. "This is ridiculous, Mr. T," she muttered. "What you s'pose we're gonna patch this window up with 'til we get the money to replace the pane? S'comin' out of your profits, of course."
"Cover it with a sheet or something," He said, his gaze still focused on the razor. "We can get ahold of someone tomorrow."
Mrs. Lovett nodded and turned to look at Sweeney. She bridged the distance between then and leaned closer to him, watching his razor for a moment before looking into a gaze that only ever seemed to look through her.
Flipping the blade closed, he tucked it into the holder in his belt. "He better come soon," He growled softly, almost to himself.
Mrs. Lovett forced a smile. "I'm sure he'll come here lookin' for you," she offered, "Trying to get you sent off again, most likely. Just have patience, my love. He'll be dead again soon and you can go back to thinking about the future."
"Patience," Sweeney laughed. "I tried having patience. Those fifteen long years. Even after I came back..." He turned away from her, beginning to pace in front of the window. "I do not wish to wait that long for someone who's supposed to be dead."
Mrs. Lovett crossed her arms and made a frustrated face. She had patience to deal with Sweeney's obsessive antics usually, but the return of the judge seemed like an event made to snatch Sweeney out of her reach again. The distance had been placed between them again. "Well that's all what you can do right now, Mr. Todd. Unless you want to hunt him down and risk exposing yourself."
He stopped pacing, and weighed the two options; wait for god knows how long and get away with murdering the bastard, or hunt him down, and possibly be deported. ".... Fine." He said, almost forcing the word out. "I'll wait."
Mrs. Lovett smiled. Another victory over a stubborn man. "It's for the best." She went to his side again, placing her hand gently on his left arm and tilting her neck to look into Sweeney's eyes. "Calmed down yet?"
Sweeney nodded. "A bit." It was not a total lie. He did feel calmer he did when he was talking to the judge, but the anger, the desire to see his razor sinking into the man's neck, was still there.
Mrs. Lovett dared to press a little closer to him, her dress brushing against his leg. She laid her head against his arm. "Patience, love, patience. You'll have him."
Her actions did not go unnoticed, but he did not do anything to encourage them. "And this time I'll make sire he stays dead."
Mrs. Lovett backed away after giving Sweeney's shoulder a light, comforting squeeze. "Of course," she muttered. "Good night, Mr. Todd. I really should be off to bed now." She turned went to open the door to the shop. "You should try to rest too. I worry about you, I do." She shook her head and was out the door and down the stairs without another word.