(no subject)
Ah, London. Full of a variety of bars in which one can pass their time and lose their worries. Mrs. Lovett had had enough of local bars and really didn't desire to deal with their usual patronage. So she wound through a few extra streets and came up to a door that seemed promising.
Opening it, she stepped inside and stopped cold.
"Oh, fiddle. I forgot to take off my apron."
The clash of times and people are apparently lost on her as she weaves towards the Bar, head down, hands scrubbing at a flour stain -- one of many -- upon her apron.
Opening it, she stepped inside and stopped cold.
"Oh, fiddle. I forgot to take off my apron."
The clash of times and people are apparently lost on her as she weaves towards the Bar, head down, hands scrubbing at a flour stain -- one of many -- upon her apron.