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The day never ended after the customer's bellies were filled, Sweeney knew.
No, it really was much more than that — After the last customer had run off, they'd dismiss Tobias. Usually, Mrs. Lovett would put a penny in his hand, and he'd be allowed to go down the road to buy whatever he wanted, and retire to the house when he returned — Usually on the floor of Mrs. Lovett's room in a pile of sheets, or in the armchair by the fire. A proper bed was on Mrs. Lovett's mind, she'd told him about it, but until then, the young man slept where he'd liked.
After they sent Tobias off, though, that was when the evening truly began.
Sweeney assisted with the difficult labor — Hoisting up the bodies onto the butchering block and ridding the corpse of its head, as she struggled to do these things alone, but he had to give a hand to Mrs. Lovett — She was a true expert at butchering the cadavers, and once she was done with it, they looked like any other well-prepared cuts of meat.
After that, they'd haul off all the bones and scraps to the oven, and let them burn as they wiped each other's faces of stray blood and viscera, and change into the much cleaner clothes Nellie had set out for them prior, just in case Tobias had not quite fallen asleep by the time they returned from the cellars.
This time, though, Tobias had curled up and gone asleep in the armchair by the fireplace— He'd clearly been trying to tend to it, but now, it was nothing but embers.
Sweeney noticed a nearly empty box of toffees lay discarded on the floor nearby, and near it, a porcelain doll — A gift from Mrs. Lovett, and one that looked out of place every time he carried it around, which was certainly often
Bitterly, he decides his daughter would have taken much better care of it.
Mrs. Lovett turns to start the fire once again, and he finds himself gazing at the young man — In sleep, he had little of the simpleton demeanor that attracted so many looks at dinner service or on the streets. He simply looked like an adult — One that had little place in their home, but he apparently had no say in that decision.
Still, though, Sweeney regret having become saddled with him.
Once the fire is alight, Mrs. Lovett returns, draping a fallen blanket over Tobias.
He looks away from the lad's sleeping face, bittered and unable to hold his tongue.
"He ought to be put out of his sorry misery,", Sweeney finally grumbled, recalling the boy's dim wits and his struggling gait in the town square.
Before he was even able to continue his thought, Mrs. Lovett cut him off, reaching up to grip his shoulder in a way that wasn't at all gentle and shushing him for fear of waking Tobias.
"You'll do none of that. He doesn't have much misery, not anymore. If you stopped broodin' and paid a lick of attention to 'im, Mr. T, you'd notice that."
Her expression was full of scorn.
He shakes his head, lowering his voice to her request.
"The sorry barber — Pirelli — You saw how he treated him," Sweeney tried.
"And you put an end to that real quick, didn't you, love?" Mrs. Lovett leaned over and pecked his cheek, but his emotions did not budge any further.
She slipped a hand into his own. "Now, he's got a warm place to rest his head, a full belly 'n some kind words. He's happy."
"He's simple, not happy."
"You're actin' as if he belongs up in hospital. We've all got our shortcomings, y'know. He knows how t' run the dinner service, he's no idiot."
Sweeney did not say anything, instead watching the steady rise and fall of Tobias's chest below him.
"He's not goin' anywhere, Mr. T, and I don't care how much you mope about it. Now, go off to bed, it's late."
She retired to bed. He did not budge, for some time.
Instead, he thinks back to that one day in the town square. The contest.
Tobias had looked a lot paler, then. His cheeks were sunken in, too.
Sweeney recalls the way Pirelli had kicked and smacked the boy around. The screams of protest as he'd been forcibly volunteered for the tooth-pulling.
It hadn't bothered him at the time, minus being a slight distraction from his task.
Looking back, though, an irritating, pesky thought begins to worm its way into his mind —
He doesn't like it.
He doesn't like it when the shop patrons whisper about the way Tobias walks, or talks, or anything.
Mrs Lovett was right, though. Tobias truly doesn't look miserable anymore, either.
His cheeks are fuller and he is a much healthier shade. She really was treating him well — Perhaps as her own.
Maybe, ever so slightly, he was beginning to understand why.
Gah.
Carefully, Sweeney picks up the discarded doll. It felt cold to the touch, its face slightly marked, dress certainly stained.
He tucks it as smoothly as he can into Tobias's arms.
He spends the rest of the night brooding in the shop.