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((Okay, thank you Unromantic. I'll be playing Meg, I guess, until we get the one who signed up for it back or whatnot. Need the girl to move the plot, and we can't NPC everyone. ~_^ ))

She did wonderfully! Christine really did have a beautiful voice. Where had that girl been hiding such talent all the years she'd known her? Or maybe she hadn't had the talent until her tutor came along. Speaking of the mystery teacher, she'd never seen the man in her life! No one had!
As the curtain went down on the final scene, Meg rushed right offstage to find Christine. She wanted to be the first one to praise her best friend and wanted desperately to know who this tutor was. She remembered her mother speaking of him once--did she know him, too?--but aside from that and Christine's mumblings of him, there was nothing else known.
Her mother was nowhere to be found (cleaning the Phantom's box? Did that thing ever make a mess?) which turned her around a bit. Usually she met the older Giry backstage and they'd walk back to the costume room and then the ballet dorms for bed. Meg was never allowed to go to the after parties, but she didn't miss them. If being a concubine to rich Parisians was all that happened there as some said, she didn't want to party. Perform and sleep; that was good enough for her.
As she made her way to go give back her costume from the performance, Meg passed the theatre's chapel. Someone was in there, praying quietly for a loved one. Meg recognised the voice as Christine's and smiled to herself sadly. The girl was praying to her Father. It seemed a ritual that she would go to the chapel after every performance. She'd been in there more before her tutor came three months ago. Perhaps one of her prayers had been for that tutor.
Quietly, she descended the steps into the chapel, placing her hands on her tiny waist as she saw Christine was finished praying and looking at her like she'd been expecting the young blonde dancer.
"Oh Christine, you were superb tonight!" She exclaimed, losing her attitude (to which all said she derived from her Mother) and rushing to Christine's side to embrace her brunette friend. The girl was still in costume , but it didn't bother either of them. If it got dirty, it would go back to Carlotta like that. The Italian cow deserved a dirty dress. "I never knew you could sing like that--well, I did, but you really knocked the breath out of me tonight! Oh Christine, who is this tutor of yours? I must know!" She insisted urgently, grasping her friend's shoulders as if the world depended on it. "Who is the man who gave you such a gift?"

((On that note...are we ever going to have a Carlotta?))

Andre had only briefly left the box, turning a sharp corner, before running directly into Firmin himself! Firmin had been very slowly hauling his chair up those confounded steps, cursing every second as everyone else had been already too occupied with the opera to help him (he was very much in the mood to settle some accounts) when M.Moncharmin had run directly into him causing him to lose hold of his chair and drop it onto its four legs in front of him. Andre spun about upon the impact before losing his balance and falling directly into the chair, that rested in front of M. Richard, rather rigidly causing him to exhale sharply, but this was just the jolt M.Moncharmin needed to embrace the familiarity of the opera house and shake him from the supernatural episode he had just encountered.

M.Richard tilted his head at his partner's absurd manner and looked him sitting in his chair. He certainly hadn't intended on exerting all that effort so Andre could sit in the middle of the passageway! "Should I get another chair?" he asked peevishly, but upon seeing the obviously disturbed state in which Andre fumbled to pull himself out of, Firmin's usually mocking mood turned to one of concern. "Dear God Andre, are you all right?" Firmin moved around from behind the chair to gather in M.Moncharmin's emotions from M. Moncharmin's face and not his backside looking at his partner in a way one might say a lawyer would look at a witness that he was cross-examining. Firmin could hear the uproaring applause through the walls of the opera around him and he became concerned that his business associate would not recover himself before the audience streamed out and filled the causeways. Andre and himself couldn't possibly afford to loose this perfect opportunity after the opera to associate with the patrons (not to mention to confirm the supposed triumph of this new diva!...and take all the credit.) So Firmin's questions were really of more concern for his business interests than in his partner, and his partner was the very right hand of this business, so often times his concern went hand in hand with both when he asked again, "Are you alright?"

M.Moncharmin found himself sitting on a very cold, rigid and wooden chair. He suddenly preferred this seat to the soft cushions within Box Five, with it's tempting and alluring soft pockets of satin it held too much mystery that couldn't be understood in one sitting but Andre could now feel the simplicity of the wood beneath him and if he wanted to he could very easily see it's construction, see all the nails that made it up. This chair could very easily be understood and being able to understand something once again brought M.Moncharmin into a more reasonable state of mind....so he thought.

Andre shot a hand into his pocket and pulled out the "ghost's" note, the contents of which they still hadn't gone over, and handed it to Firmin breathlessly, being very glad to get rid of it..."Box Five!" is all he choked out.

Firmin took the letter and opened it up coolly (remembering to take Moncharmin's own advice) and quickly scanned the letter written in red ink which looked very much scrawled out by a child, seeing the section concerning Box Five he noted that it entailed very much what Mme.Giry had told them before and folded it up quickly shoving it into his coat pocket. "Now Andre..." he started, the lawyer about to begin, "you're not going to tell me that you're actually starting to take up on this ghost nonsense are you?"

Moncharmin turned on Firmin, sitting on a solid chair, very ready to make an argument on the plush velvet chair of box five. "He saw me, how could he...see me...how could he know? Who was there? I don't-"

Firmin could hear that the gala had certainly ended and the audience was about to leave, he knew he was pressed for time, and he knew Moncharmin liked to think things out, but if he could only give a quick solution his partner would recover. "You're letting them get to you!" he insisted. "Whatever happened in there was a mere parlor trick for sure!" He wasn't about to hear the nitty gritty details of what had spooked Andre. "But now isn't the time to-"

Suddenly Firmin saw their Patron the Viscomte Raoul de Chagny hurriedly descend from his box and Firmin drew a sharp intake of breath as their patron would soon discover the managers awkward behavior in the middle of the hallway and then inquire. Yet to both of the manager's luck Raoul at all times had his back to them and he made down the hallway towards the opera's backstage and dressing rooms, rather hurriedly, obviously with something else on his mind. This was far too close for Firmin's liking.

"Now listen to me!" Firmin hissed taking a hold of his partner's shoulders. "You said this was a business, to be run as a business Andre. There aren't any psychological errors to be made in this business, and there aren't, for God's sake, any ghosts! Do you hear me?...Do you hear them?" He motioned to the walls where they could hear the rustling of the audience picking up and leaving. "That's you losing business if you don't get a hold of yourself now!"

And the doors suddenly sprang open and thousands of smiling and chattering faces poured through the opera all talking about Christine and her amazing performance. M.Richard grabbed a hold of M.Moncharmin, pushing the chair aside and striding towards the bottom of the Opera Populaire's gallant steps within the main parlor, waiting to meet the crowd, waiting to please their patrons further.

One rather fat patron and his overly dressed wife and a cluster of their well-to-do friends came towards the managers.

"What an amazing triumph for this new diva!" the patron declared. "You two have brought a new exhilarating breath to this old house with a new young voice that-my word, I thought she was a chorus of angels in one!"

"I rather liked her dress." giggled his wife, and the small crowd turned to the two managers for a reply.

The world suddenly became another hard-backed chair to M.Moncharmin, faced with his patrons and the opportunity to excel his fortunes, his mind suddenly and tightly clasped onto this familiar reality in which he never wished to depart again. "Only the beginning of heaven on earth, my dear Messieurs!" he declared sweepingly taking the patron wife's arm in his and leading the group both backstage where the parties were held. "Under our management the Opera Populaire has nothing but triumph!"

((The person who signed up to play La Carlotta contacted me to explain why she was unable to post at the beginning. We will see if she is able to return by the time Carlotta comes back. Also, I think it fair for me to tell everyone that as far as lyrics go I will be going more by the musical since I only saw the movie once and did not buy a movie soundtrack. That means that some words will be different than what people who are only familiar with the movie know.))

M. Richard was almost quite suprised by his associate's quick uptake, forgetting what had so clearly spoked him and joining the social throng once again. At this moment he believed Moncharmin to be quite merry, and perhaps his mood was heightened by a need to forget his incident in Box Five, or perhaps (and always more logically) becuase he had one too-many drinks (although it was fair to say he wasn't the only one)and he was very grandly conducting conversation so Firmin was left only to fill in side conversation and crack a few jokes, all in the spirit to keep the patrons happy...But M.Richard did not like to forget this whole incident of the ghost, although he did not brood upon it, and so he kept a sharp eye on everybody within his contact, stagehands, ballerinas, and ahh yes...Firmin spotted M.Reyer standing aside and looking at them rather questioningly. Firmin glanced at M.Moncharmin, who seemed to have the patrons quite entertained and so he decided that those future investments could be left in very capable hands and left the small party.

Firmin smiled amiably at M. Reyer, briefly bowing his head in respect to the director. "Mr. Reyer," he began," a wonderful night to discover a new diva if there ever was one, don't you agree?"

He had been standing behind the mirror for what felt like an eternity, and he had driven himself nearly insane by wondering what was taking her so long to return to her room. Could that boy have found her before she'd even reached the dressing room? Were they already making plans to meet with each other after Christine had changed out of her costume? Were they simply going to run off for the evening?

No! Christine was not some loose woman. She was a woman of virtue who went to the small chapel in the opera house every night to pray for her father. Of course! thought Erik mentally slapping himself. She visited the chapel every night, so she would not immediately return to her dressing room. How could he have forgotten something that was such a ritual occurrence. Antoinette was certainly right when she said that love is blinding, but I cannot afford to let myself be blinded so easily. Now that his mind was not racing so much he could once again see and understand everything clearly.

It was somewhat frightening to realize how blind he became to reason when he felt even the slightest bit threatened, but this was not even him being threatened. This was his love for a woman who did not even know that he existed, and the hopelessness of his love was enough to make him scream even without the added threat of a rival. It made him feel like he was banging his head against the stone walls of the opera house. God, why would you allow me to fall in love with this woman only to have me watch as she is swept away by this man who has every advantage that I do not? He has a title, wealth, and a handsome face. You have given me such genius, but you have cursed me with a face that no woman could look on in love. I live like some wretched animal in the bowels of the Earth. What have I ever done to deserve such torture? he asked beginning to slip into a dark depression, but suddenly the door opened.

It was her!

Oh, what a beautiful smile she had. How he wished that one of those smiles could one day be directed at him, but that was another hopeless dream of his. Even knowing the hopelessness, he could not help but smile as well as he looked upon her. She was like some beautiful, distant star that he could gaze upon for eternity, but he would never be able to touch. Later such thoughts would drive him back into that dark depression, but for now those thoughts could not penetrate a mind drunk off of love.

He placed one hand against the mirror. It was just glass that separated them, and all he would have to do to allow them to be together was to slide the glass aside. It was so easy. It would take so little effort to remove this one physical barrier that stood between them. Her angel could become flesh in one simple movement of a piece of glass.

A knock on the door brought him out of those thoughts, and he found that one his hands had begun sliding the mirror's glass away. Looking up, he saw that Christine had noticed nothing, and he quickly (but discretely) slid it back into place.

The door opened to reveal the Vicomte with a bouquet of flowers and a rather silly grin on his face. It annoyed Erik to think that he'd probably been wearing one just like it moments ago. "Christine Daae, Where is your scarf?" he asked as she looked at him questioningly. What the hell kind of greeting was that? "I would hate to think that you'd lost it again after all of the trouble I went to to get it back for you. I was soaked to the skin, Little Lotte."

((Yeah...I can't remember what his first lines were in the movie when he went into her dressing room, so I just paraphrased what he said in the stage production. Sorry to anyone who's confused.))

((We have a Meg? That makes me so happy! It means I don't have to ask people to play more characters than they signed up for...eh sweatdrop aside from me playing Raoul right now. This means that Utakan can go back to playing only one part. You did really good at playing Meg, but it really seems unfair to ask you to play so many.))

"If you call me Vicomte then I will have to insist upon calling you Mademoiselle Daae. Anything else would be horribly unappropriate," he smiled and chuckled as he handed her the bouquet of flowers that he had brought into the room.

Erik wanted to gag at the sickly sweetness of the scene in front of him, but he did not wish to give himself away. What would Christine think of him if she were to find him standing behind her mirror and staring into her room? He would probably die of shame before anyone else could come in to do the job for him.

"It has been a long time, Little Lotte," said Raoul still smiling. Erik wanted to run into the room and punch out all of those pretty white teeth of his.

((I'm glad you found it funny, but I'm sure he really would have wanted to do that.))

"My brother decided that I needed to become 'properly educated'," he said with a slight note of distaste in his voice, "so my brother had me sent off to the most expensive school he could find. After that he used some of his connections to have me signed up as a sailor, and I'd been doing that when he suddenly decided to call me back to Paris. I sometimes wish I understood better why my brother chooses to do the things that he does, but I can't say that I mind too much being home instead of out at sea all the time. Certainly your face is much more pleasant a sight than some of my shipmates."

Erik frowned thinking that a horribly pathetic joke as well as a rather sappy tale. The boy had no idea how much Erik would have loved to trade places with him at that moment. How he would have loved to be able to talk with Christine and to have her smile so pleasantly at him. Oh! It wasn't fair!

"I have talked more than enough about myself though. What have you been up to since last we saw each other?"

She nodded as he explained where he had been and what he had been doing before he asked her what she had been up to. "I've just lived here as a chorus-girl and dancer.." She stated and chuckled, "Up till tonight when I sang for my first well.. diva-like performance." She rose a hand to the back of her head where she played with a curl that was bothering her, like her curls sometimes did. She sighed softly, "Madame Giry brought me here as you may know, however."