A Little Priest
He can't even remember why he goes to the mall with Gaston anymore. Half the time, it's only so the a** can get his ego all stoked up- ah, of course, now Voxden remembers. The college student smirks around the straw of his smoothie. Gaston doesn't usually need to get his ego up because "arrogance" is the guy's middle name. (Voxden's not fibbing, either; one can be amazed what words and alcohol can do) . However, there is one person who can knock him on his a** with a simple "no": Belle, a French literature major and one of the prettiest girls on campus.
Voxden can't help but snicker to himself as he fiddles with his Walkman. Man, Gaston is never going to learn. Shaking his head, the student just forwards a few songs until there we go! and he lands on Sweeney Todd's "A Little Priest". It's one of his favorites, and besides, who doesn't love songs about serial killers and pies in the same breath? The first beginning lines before the actual song begin, and Voxden finds himself zoning out as he mutters along.
"Later on when it's dark, we'll take him to some secret place and bury him..." So zoned out, he doesn't notice when a second female voice speaks along with the Mrs. Lovette on the CD.
"Oh yeah. Guess we could do that. Don't suppose he's got any relatives, poking around, looking for him..." Then, the voice speaks up, louder, and Voxden blinks himself out of daydreams as he looks up. Sitting at the foodcourt table next to him is a woman, not too older than him. Long lavender hair falls down her back, with a few smooth lumps going over her shoulder. Her eyes are closed smugly as she sings, "Seems a downright shame."
"Shame?" Voxden echoes, even as the headphones are sliding down and away from his ears to rest around his neck.
Smug turns to serene as the woman pushes herself up from the table, her hands pressed flat against the table. "Seems an awful waste. Such a nice plump frame, what's his name has... had..." She opens her eyes and tilts her head to the side. "Has! Nor it can't be traced," she adds, fingers tracing the edge of the table as she walks around it to him. "Business needs a lift, debts need to be erased. Think of it as thrift-" She beams, eyes sparkling deviously. "As a gift! If you get my drift," she mentions in that same sing-song voice. At his silence, she prompts, "No?" She places a finger to her lips while steadying herself against her table with the other hand. "Seems an awful waste... I mean, with the price of meat, what it is, when you get it-" An eyebrow is inquiringly yet coolly raised. "If you got it."
The entire time, Voxden has just been staring at her in stunned wonder, nothing less than amazed. Still, his love of musicals takes control of his body right around then, causing him to raise his eyebrows in understanding and say, simply, "Ah!"
A devilishness not even the Devil himself could pull off sparks in her eyes as she smiles, clearly pleased at him either catching on a la in-character, or that he's going along with the musical. Voxden isn't sure, for once, which it is. "Good, you got it! Take for instance Mrs. Moony and her pie shop!" There's a definite bounce in her step as she swirls over to him, pressing her hands against the edge of the little divider before gesturing to one of the fast food joints. "Bus'ness never better using only p***y-cats and toast!" The smile is diverted to him as he stands up to join her, and for a moment, Voxden can see a name tag shine on her shirt: Rise. "And a p***y's good for six or seven at the most! And I'm sure they can't compare as far as taste-"
Voxden can't hold himself back any longer, even if the action is technically in the script; this woman is willing to randomly burst into song . With a grin splitting his face, he grabs Rise by the waist and twists her around so that he can hold her close. "Mrs. Lovette, what a charming notion-"
"Well it does seem a waste-"
Twirling about the foodcourt and gathering more then their fair share of stares, the duo smile at each other. "Eminently practical," he sings, taking her by the hand so that she can twist beneath his arm, "and yet appropriate as always!"
"It's an idea," she admits in faux shyness, shoulders shaking with silent laughter as they pull apart.
"Mrs. Lovette, how I've lived all these years without you, I'll never know. (Think about it! Lots of gentlemen'll soon be coming for a shave-) How delectable! Also undetectable! (Won't they? Think of all them pies!) How choice!" The ignore the gapes of a table full of teenagers and he hops up onto an empty chair. "How rare!" He twists about, looking into an imaginary London that's replacing the food court. "For what's the sound of the world out there?"
Rise looks up at him in adoration as he pulls her up onto another chair. "What, Mister Todd, what Mister Todd? What is that sound?"
His arm sweeps out grandly. "Those crunching noises pervading the air!"
"Yes, Mister Todd! Yes Mister Todd! Yes, all around!" she agrees as they step up onto the table, and almost knocks over a napkin dispenser.
As their arms entwine around each other, Voxden stares into her eyes and grins predatorily. "It's man devouring man, my dear!"
Together, they chorus, "And who are we to deny it in here?" Facing the entire foodcourt, they both sweep their outside arms grandiosely, clearly excited. As their chests go in and out, Voxden looks back down at Rise and raises an eyebrow slyly. "These are desperate times, Mrs. Lovette," he mentions with a smirk as he hops down to the ground first, waiting to catch her about the waist. "Desperate measures are called for."
Humming the song under her breath, Rise untangles herself from his arms and walks over to her table again. As she takes a hold of the tray, she shoves it towards the edge closest to him. "Here we are!" she announces, gesturing to the unwrapped burger there. "Hot out of the oven!"
Raising an eyebrow, Voxden pokes it experimentally with a finger. "What is that?"
"It's priest." Rise winks at him, resting her hands on the table and leaning forward. "Have a little priest."
"Is it really good?" he prods.
"Sir, it's too good at least!" Rise exclaims, stepping back and placing her fingers to her chest as she boasts further. "Then again, they don't commit sins of the flesh. So it's pretty fresh."
"Awful lot of fat," Voxden notes.
"Only where it's at," Rise retorts cheekily.
Crossing his arms, Voxden asks, "Don't you have poet, or something like that?"
Shaking her head, she replies, "No, y'see, the trouble with poet is how do you know it's deceased? Try the priest!" Giggling, she links their arms together and they breeze through the foodcourt. It doesn't escape their notice that the place has gone quiet for the 'show'. As they sit together on a table, inspecting the masses, she mentions, "Lawyer's rather nice."
"If it's for a price," Voxden adds as she points at a gentleman in a suit.
"Order something else, though, to follow," Rise advises, "since no one should swallow it twice!"
"Anything that's lean," Voxden says, almost to himself as he leans back, one leg dangling lazily while the other perches on a chair.
"Well, if you're British and loyal, you might enjoy Royal Marine!" she chirps, folding her legs underneath her and adjusting her skirt. "Anyway it's clean. Although," she mentions cheerily as she rests her head on Voxden's shoulder, "it tastes of wherever it's been!"
Leaning closer to her, Voxden points and asks, "Is that squire, on the fire?"
"Mercy no, sir, look closer, that's grocer," Rise corrects.
"Looks thicker," he argues back, "more like vicar!"
"No, it has to be grocer-" She pulls herself up and closer using his shoulder so that she may hiss, "It's green!"
Laughing, he stands on the table again, arm yet again around her waist as they dance precariously on the surface. "The history of the world, my love-"
"Save a lot of graves, do a lot of relatives favors!" she sings back.
"-Is those below serving those up above!" he continues, as if she had never sang.
"Everybody shaves," Rise says with shining eyes, "so there'll be plenty of flavors!"
"How gratifying for once to know-" he begins before their voices come together.
"-That those below will serve those up above!" This time, neither of them leave the table. They stand there a bit longer, looking out onto the foodcourt for yet another fitting person for their song. Luckily, it turns out Voxden's friends can be reliable after all.
"What is that?" he sneers, jerking a thumb in the direction of Gaston, who is staring at the two musical lovers with an odd look on his face.
"It's fop," she answers with a teasing smile, "finest in the shop, and we have some Shepard's pie peppered with actual Shepard on top! And I've just begun!" Rather agilely, she hops over to an adjacent table. "Here's the politician so oily, it's served with a doily!" Leaning down, she scoops up a small pile of napkins and tosses them over to Voxden. "Have one!"
"Put it on a bun," Voxden advises, holding it out from him with the tips of his fingers. "For you never know if it's going to run!"
"Try the friar! It's drier!"
"No, the clergy is really too coarse and too mealy," Voxden says with a shake of his head and a dismissive gesture.
"Then actor!" Rise says persuasively. "It's compacter!"
"But always a tad overdone!" he mentions, leaning closer and winking. "I'll come again when you have judge on the menu." Together, they hope off of the table, somehow managing to not kill themselves before they continue to dance with one another, weaving around the tables and humming together. "Have charity to the world, my pet," he hums at some point."
"Yes, yes, I know, my love," she coos back, eyes closed in happiness.
"We'll take the customers that we can get!" he declares.
"High-born and low, my love," she agrees.
"We'll not discriminate great from small," Voxden says, voice getting louder, "We'll serve anyone, meaning anyone-"
"And to anyone at AAAAAAALLLLLL!" they finish together, twisting away from each other and holding onto one of the other's hands. For a moment, there's nothing but silence... Then the entire foodcourt erupts into claps and whistles. As they catch their breath, Voxden and Rise stare as a few people leave some money by their respective tables before they look at each other.
Voxden grins. "We have to have sex."
Her face turns ready almost immediately. "WHAT!?" Rise squeaks.
"We need a Toby! I don't know anyone short, cute, and with a good singing voice! Clearly, the only method is to make our own by combining our musical genes." His grin twitches just a bit wider. "Obviously."
Still red, Rise can't help but laugh. "We don't have to do that! In fact... I think I know someone who could fill in the role..."
