Misunderstandings and... well maybe not quite tenderness

A hee hee giggle

A bitter wind, stained by the rain that roared outside, whipped the long since sun-faded curtains as they hung by the foolishly open window. The chill of the inhospitable weather beyond the room, however, was nothing compared to the chills and thrills of pure, primal terror that raced through the poor, frightened woman's veins like ice. It had taken no more than the flash of an intentionally poorly concealed blade of a knife to strip her of the feeble glimmer of hope that she had so foolishly dared to allow herself to entertain the lifetime of a cluster of mere moments before. 

"I know the good Dr. Jekyll just as well as I know myself," came the eerie sing-song of one Edward Hyde, the nature of his pacing alone making it glaringly obvious that he was in one of his more erratic, unpredictable moods, "We are very... close, he and I. Just as you and I are, my dearest Lucy." The presence of the knife, clasped just so that she was only able to catch a glimpse of it if it hit the light just right, a fact he was clearly enjoying playing with, left the term of endearment with the weight of the most profound mockery. Mockery that was significantly less pressing than the fact the tip of the knife was pointed towards the woman's throat more than enough to make his intention for it glaringly obvious.

"If you're afraid I'm goin' to tell," Lucy began, trying to win herself as much space between her and the man as she possibly could without risking him lashing out, "I swear, I won't tell no one."

This brought a sharp smile to curl across the man's odd features. Both sharp and odd in ways that were perfectly obvious, stretching too wide to flash teeth that seemed improbably sharp on a person, and in ways that she truly could not explain even if she had the time to ponder the matter properly. He rocked onto the balls of his feet just so, quickly stealing back what little space she had managed to secure. 

"You won't tell?" repeated he,  his eyes stretched far too wide in mock obliviousness, tilting his head to the side, "Then tell me, Lucy, what is it that you shan't be telling anyone?" 

Now, whatever it was that Hyde had assumed Lucy had worked out about himself and Jekyll - presumably that they were one and the same - was quickly lost to him as he had evidently not been expecting her actual answer.

"I won't tell no one that you're Henry's lover." she near squeaked out, leaning back as far as she possibly could, her arm wobbling a little as it threatened to give out from underneath her. 

"What?" came the near-screech of the man after a necessary cluster of heartbeats to make sure that he really had heard her correctly. 

"I'm not judgin' you, sir, honest," Lucy continued, misinterpreting the horror that graced Hyde's features, "Lots of folks come here with all sorts of tastes and interests, it isn't my business who likes what and -"

"That's not what I meant at all!" Hyde near bellowed, quickly resuming his pacing back and forth across the floor in such a rapid frenzy that the poor carpet beneath his feat was sure to suffer, as threadbare as it was to begin with it hardly stood a chance against the odd, irregular footfalls of the the creature of a man.

One good thing about this pacing, however, was that it gave Lucy a chance to scoot back a bit. She'd have much rather have made for the door, or even risk her chances scurrying out the window, but the path he had settled on left him between both. At least he wasn't looming over her, which felt like a little victory among a perpetual series of far more significant losses. Which she rather felt made for the perfect summary of her life, an idea that almost brought a smile - the sort of smile a person wore when they knew the alternative was tears - but she caught herself before she did something Hyde might take as her trying to provoke him somehow. 

"That'd just be... gross," Hyde continued, one hand finding itself in his mess of hair, the other busy gesturing wildly with the knife, "Not that, that's fine, people are pretty and I appreciate that very much, but Henry? Gross. Dreadful. He's awful! I mean, I'm pretty wonderful and everyone agrees but I'm all that he isn't but also that he should be but isn't because he's a coward and so he needed me to be all that because he-" He had to pause his increasingly incoherent ramble of a sentence because he had forgotten he needed to breathe, and so had to stop and gasp a few lungfuls. Which did not give him time to slow his brain into anything more coherent.