Disclaimer: Not mine. Used without permission or remuneration but with as much love and respect as Sweeney has for his friends.

La Petite Mort

Late that evening, Mr Todd, having been sitting in silence as he always did, the stony paterfamilias, unexpectedly reached out, his fingertips brushing past her dangling curls, and curiously touched her neck.

Electricity, that new and dangerous thing, sparked through her; she couldn't quite repress her shiver of delight, for all that he never liked it when she showed what pleasure she took in him; she sat still, waiting, ready to take her lead from him as she did when they danced. Touching, she was certain, was a very good sign.

(He's thinking that one day, he'll cut just there.)