Mrs Lovett picked up the razor and turned it around in the moonlight, watching with bemused interest at the way the blade shone and glinted. She understood now why Mr Todd loved his razors so. They were beautiful, dangerous, deadly, but beautiful all the same. Mrs Lovett stared down at the pale skin of her wrist. She slashed the razor lightly across it. Immediately a pain seared through her, but it was only for a second. The faintest line now ran across her wrist, bleeding slightly. She decided she liked the feel of it.

She drew the razor across her smooth skin again and again, deeper this time. She laughed madly as she did so, enjoying the pain and the way it ate her up. It didn't take long until great seas of blood began rushing down her arms, onto her dress. It splattered on her cheeks and against her breasts, warm and yet cold at the same time.

Finally, when it looked as though there was no more skin left to destroy, Mrs Lovett dropped the razor with a clatter and slid down on to the floor. She lent against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to ignore the pain coursing through her.

She realised at the moment that she didn't want to exist anymore. She had nothing, nothing at all. Her business was picking up slowly, but it was still a reminder of her failings in the past. She had no real friends, nobody she could rely on. And Mr Todd, dear Mr Todd, he didn't love her at all. He was too obsessed with his revenge, with brooding over his lost life. Over Lucy and Johanna.

Toby. Mrs Lovett's eyes flashed open. Oh dear God, what had she done? What about Toby? He needed her. She hoped he wouldn't come up and find her like this, though she doubted that he would, after all he had never come up to the barber shop before in the past.

She heard footsteps coming up the stairs. The door opened and a pair of shining black boots came in to view. It wasn't Toby, thank God. But it was somebody much worse.

"Miss Lovett, you stupid woman! What have you done?" Sweeney growled.

She simply laughed in response. He came running over to her, crouching down on the floor beside her. She smelt horribly of gin. He picked up her arm, running his eyes over the cuts that lay there.

"It hurts, Mr T," Mrs Lovett whispered suddenly, "It really hurts."

She began to cry and, to her surprise, Sweeney wrapped an arm around her trembling shoulders, holding her close against his chest, kissing the frizzy hair on top of her head. He waited patiently whilst she sobbed in to his shirt, running his fingers through her soft hair and kissing her cheek. It had been worth it, Mrs Lovett thought, it had been worth it just for this. When she finally managed to stop crying, Sweeney gently pulled her to her feet and lead her over to his barber chair.

"Do not move," He said to her sternly, "I'll be back."

Mrs Lovett nodded. She missed his touch already. Sweeney disappeared but returned minutes later, a bottle of clear liquid in one hand and a bundle of bandages in the other. He crouched beside Mrs Lovett, and gently began dabbing the liquid on to her cuts. She flinched as it stung her skin.

"Ah, Nellie," Sweeney muttered, she loved it when he used her first name, "What am I going to do with you?"

"I'm sorry," Mrs Lovett whispered, "I shouldn't have done it, I know. But those razors are so... Well, you get what I'm saying, don't you, Mr T?"

When he offered no response she remained silent. For once their was silence between them, no Mrs Lovett rambling on meaninglessly, no Mr Todd ranting about his revenge. After applying the liquid, Sweeney began to carefully wrap the bandages around Mrs Lovett's arm. He did this quite quickly, and Mrs Lovett found that she felt quite sad when he was finished.

"Thank you," She said, inspecting the neatly tied bandages, "Where did you learn to do that?"

"You aren't the only one to have found a fondness in those razors, Mrs Lovett," Sweeney said. He pulled back the sleeve of his shirt and she noticed for the first time the faint scars trailing over his skin. "We had razors in Australia, too," He mused, speaking almost to himself, "But they weren't quite the same."

Slowly Mrs Lovett reached out, trailing her fingers over his skin. It was ice cold. She stared up in to his dark, brooding eyes. He stared right back. Slowly, she leaned in closer, so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face. She touched the side of his cheek, and he didn't object. However when her lips brushed against his, Sweeney gripped her wrist suddenly, making her jump.

"This changes nothing, Mrs Lovett," He said. He kissed the inside of her wrist and stood up.

"Of course not, love," She muttered.

Mrs Lovett slid out of the chair and smoothed down her crumpled dress, feeling suddenly awkward, almost ashamed. She glanced at Sweeney's blood and tear stained shirt.

"I can wash that for you later, if you like," She offered.

"I shall send it down shortly," Sweeney replied.

Mrs Lovett nodded, turned, and walked from the room.