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She had waited for him to sit before she did--it was good manners--and her spine thanked her by loosening as her backside sunk into the cheap cushioning of the bench where she had been sitting a couple of minutes ago, brushing her hair. Her eyes watched the wallpaper behind him, trying to use what little imagination was left in her head to make images that would either calm her down or make her at least seem more pleasant by letting her get away with a small smile.
But that plan failed as he mentioned her crying and her left hand grasped the handle of her cane so hard the knuckles went white and the arm went straight as a board, stiff as one too. Her eyes went to his and flashed surprise, then what seemed to be anger or just bitter shock. He wouldn't know the difference, she supposed.
"Don't." She warned softly, surprising herself when her voice didn't shake or crack. Her grip slowly eased up on the cane and she bent her arm at the elbow, drawing the item back to rest against her leg. Antoinette was not about to bring up Joseph again willingly. That man was trouble at the bottom of a whiskey bottle. Plus, she wasn't a little fink who kissed and told. Okay, bad referance.
A sigh escaped Antoinette's lips as her shoulders eased. She hadn't even known she'd been tense. "Bitter memories is all, Erik. Bitter thoughts from a bitter mind." It was half the truth. The cane was put aside as both hands came to rest in her lap, idly braiding a little bit of hair that was curled on her skirts. "It happens." But then her eyes moved up from her hands to his face. "Where's your mask? Did you break it again? It's been a while since you've been without it."

Her hands continued to fidget with the tuft of hair in her lap, lazily braiding and then unbraiding it as if she didn't like how it had been done and had to be done again. It wasn't like Antoinette to fidget, but dancers often did when they were told to be still since they didn't want their muscles to tighten or stiffen before they had to perform again. It'd been years since Antoinette saw the wondrous glory of a packed house while leading the ballet segment of any Opera. After Meg had been born, Antoinette had taken the easier job of Box Keeper. Box 5 had been the only one no one would touch--and for good reason--and so she had added one more duty toward Erik she had.
She knew when Erik beat around the bush of a conversation, though it wasn't his style at all, and her brows furrowed for a moment as she finally quit her menial task of playing with her hair and straightened her spine to sit up. The poor lighting in the room shadowed half his features almost like a natural mask as she was sure it did the same for her.
"I knew it would've been better to have those masks made out of something less breakable." Antoinette said with a sigh, completely ignoring his further questioning in to her questionable state of health or even mind. "I'll get another spare to you, then. Ought to keep at least two now if you're going to be throwing them around like they could fly." Her lips pursed and a few wrinkles from her frown edged on to her face as she gave him the common look of 'you should know better' that only parents seem to know.
Quietly she got up from the bench and moved past him to get to her desk where she dipped the pen's metal tip into a small vat of ink before writing on some parchment "mask" as a small reminder. She wouldn't forget even if she didn't write it down, but Erik had a tendency to pick apart your soul even with just a glance. And right now, she wasn't totally sure her soul needed to be judged on Erik's terms. The pen was wiped off with a small cloth slowly going black from all the times she either wrote something or accidentally spilled the ink.
"And I suggest you learn to put your trapdoors in more hidden places or at least make them harder to find. If a scene shifter can find them, it's too easy." Her words were laced with black silk, stiff and full of more words than she had actually said. She didn't know why she didn't just come out and say 'Joseph Buquet found your trapdoors and plans to kill you' but she really was never straightfoward. It happened when you were taught to be seen and unheard most of your life.

Antoinette, had she thought she could stomache it, would've laughed at how Erik was acting. Only he and her husband had ever jumped the gun when it came to her wellbeing. Meg was simply one of those children who's mind was always in the clouds or in a book, her mind never able to grasp her mother could do any wrong or have any wrong done to her. However warm it made her feel to know someone cared whether or not she was bothered into an early grave, she still felt the icy feeling that came with the conversation. Her eyes stared at the pen still in her hand, studying the details even though they were rather blurred to her.
"Joseph's just a teenager in a thirty year old man's body. He certainly has the body odor for one," She sighed as her mind tried telling her body to stop tensing up. It was already obvious she'd been disturbed. "Thinks he's invincible." Antoinette added as a mutter, though it was loud enough to be called an additional sentence added sullenly.
The pen was put down on the desk and slowly she forced herself to go sit back down and keep still, her hands folded calmly in her lap despite the fact she was far from calm. Her eyes settled on the wall beyond Erik's head, knowing she'd begin retching again if she dared look him in the eye. The look he was giving her was already turning her stomache juices nervously.
"He's hellbent to find your home, and then kill you. I'm afraid he'll find a more direct route than just the third cellar where he first saw you." She knew she shouldn't worry about Erik since the man could kill a horse with one glance if he liked, but Buquet had the head of a hollow oak tree and a skull as thick as marble. The man was obsessed with finding Erik and ridding the world of him and it scared Antoinette to no end that he might just find a way down to his home and give solid proof that Erik was there. With hard evidence, the police and fire squad would be down there and literally burn him out, ruining the Opera House in turn.
"It's stupid, don't worry about it." She said at last, biting her bottom lip.

Her entire body tensed and her mind sent warning bells all over her as if locking herself up in herself would save her from Erik's temper. Though she never admitted it, when he got angry he frightened her. Her eyes dared to look at him, wide in fear but the look in her eyes had gone blank so it only made her seemed shocked that he would lash out in such a way. He knew to compose himself even just a little should anyone be near.
"I wasn't talking about the situation, Erik!" She responded through her teeth as loud as she would let herself. "I'm worried to death for you, but my worries are what is stupid! I care enough to call myself stupid on your behalf." Her words had a bite to them as she held herself in place, knowing if she let down her defenses she could have a temper as lethal as his. Her hands wrung each other for a moment or two before they began to hurt from the force of the stiff movements and they quit, once more unmoving as she coaxed her mind to shut off the warning bells and get her back on track with reality.
A sigh passed Antoinette's lips and her gaze dropped to her own tiny dancers' feet. "I'm not sure why he wants it. I think the new managers question his sanity after yesterday afternoon. He wants proof that you're here to show them. If he doesn't kill you and gets his hand on even your hat, he'll have half the fire squad down there." This situation made the incident with Christine look like a pony ride. Antoinette wished she could just take all this back so she could handle Joseph by herself. The man just needed a noose around his neck again and he'd stop. But she wasn't sure if she should leave the final warning to anyone but herself.
"Forgive me for letting this mess happen. It's my fault--he knows about you through me. I haven't told him anything, but he's followed me enough to know at least more than your face." She wanted to cover her face with her hands and hide away, ashamed. It was her fault Joseph was after Erik's head. She'd sworn to him years ago that she would never betray his trust and yet that was what she was unwillingly doing now.

((Well, we have Buquet to blame for the dark moods. XD Or in other words, just blame my weird way of doing things.))

Erik looked as white as she probably looked and suddenly she realised she was putting more stress on Erik than he needed. It was bad enough he had to worry about what to do about Christine and settling things with the new managers, who were probably still running around with Carlotta like chickens without heads. Adding the possibility of his dark solitude being shattered by a scene shifter was too much for either of them. This had been a dual effort to keep Erik hidden and Buquet was ruining everything.
"I don't know, Erik. He doesn't know your name, or he'd use it. I'm pretty sure he has no clue where you reside, but he knows it's someplace in the Opera House. Maybe he thinks it's in a hidden room in the third cellar; I do not know!" The last sentence was strained as she sank back to let the vanity hit the middle of her back, sending a painful shock through her. Sadistically she felt better with the pain in her spine to worry about. Everything was being pulled up by the roots and Antoinette feared for Erik. She was all he had and they both knew it. Both of them being shaken like this was like an earthquake hitting the Roman Empire. It shattered the foundations and left the rest to chance and luck if it fell any further or survived another year.
She turned away, facing her vanity now as she picked up a picture of herself barely the age of eighteen. Antoinette went back and faced him again, but stared at the yellowed photo that was safely tucked into a brass picture frame and glass. "We'll fix this." She said finally, blinking away another tear at the memory of how easy keeping him hidden then had been. Clothes, a mattress, some food and a mask was all he wanted then. Not to say this was Erik's fault, far from her line of thought, but she had given him leniency to do as he wanted. Because Erik wanted to go around without a mask Buquet had seen him. It all led back to Antoinette and it turned her stomache over as she realised this was all on her. All because of her.
"Just lay low and I'll talk to the managers about Buquet. I'll get him fired for something, even if I have to frame him."

The picture dropped from her hand, the glass shattering upon contact. Silence followed, but that was a good sign. No one had heard the sound but them. Her eyes locked worriedly with Erik's.
"Erik, no," She said softly, moving to the edge of the bench as if it would help her any. Her bottom started hurting from it, but she ignored it and pushed the physical pain to the back of her mind and to the bottom of her list of concerns. "No, if you do that then they'll come for you for sure. Break his arm, knock him out with a sandbag, but God almighty do not kill him!" Her voice was pleading, but the look on her face was desperate. She was afraid to touch him even though she wanted to grab him and shake him by his shoulders. "I know you, Erik. I know I'm not on solid ground with the managers, but if I prove to them he's trouble then they'll remove him."
Actually, she wasn't surprised her job was on the line with the two fools. Every time they saw her she had news or a note from Erik and they did not enjoy being told what to do. If she came to them now, she would be thrown out on to the street with just the few francs in her pocket. But murder was not a safe option, either. Erik was capable of it and she knew it, but she didn't want to think about it. All she wanted was to calm him down and send him off with a sweet or something like she used to do her little brother. But Erik wasn't ten years old, nor was he gullible.
"Let that only be the last resort. If we can do nothing else then we'll have to, but please do not hurt yourself further for one drunkard." The only time she'd seen Erik kill was the man who'd kept him in a cage for God only knew how long before he'd noosed him and ran away with a ballerina who felt sorry for him. Pity no longer fueled her to protect Erik, though. But dragging him back to the mistake of murder was not only a black mark on his soul, but hers for letting it happen. She wanted Joseph gone as much as Erik, but not if it meant choking someone to death with rope or even just cutting out his tongue.
"Please swear to me you won't kill him. Not until we are sure there is nothing else we can do."

His face told her all and her own stressed expression dropped as worry slowly took over, drowning the fear. Slowly she began chewing on her bottom lip, tearing a layer of skin off of it and aggrivating the sensitive layer under it so that a tiny section bled. The warm copper taste rolled on her tongue and her mind flashed to the mental image of Joseph Buquet lying in the third cellar, rope markings on his neck--dead. The blood turned sour on her tastebuds and only made her breath catch a moment.
"You are not an animal, Erik." She countered lowly, pulling her gaze away from his as she looked at the picture he'd taken earlier. Obviously whatever little project he'd had for it was complete and like he usually did, returned it in the same condition it had left in. "For God sake, you have more intelligence than half of Paris put together. You can do anything you put your mind to. The world envies you for it! Do not say you are an animal. Buquet is an animal. He deserves a cage. You didn't." Tossing care to the wind she reached out and touched his cloak, just barely grazing the material with her fingertips. The material was deceptively smooth.
"I'll take care of you, Erik. If murder is it then by God, I'll kill him myself if I have to! Do not lower yourself to his level. That is why I'm here." She scooted just an inch further off the bench and was able to let one finger touch the back of his hand before she had to sit back lest she fall. Her hands curled into her lap and her eyes went back to the photograph.
"Thank you for returning the picture."

She felt tears stinging the corners of her eyes, but blinked them away immediately. Antoinette hated when he became indifferent, or at least when he sounded like he was. It was hard to reach someone who closed himself in ice. She felt a small chill but suppressed the shiver that would've followed instinctively. It was hard knowing Erik wasn't the little boy who depended on her anymore. It was like having a child who loved you only to wake up one day and realise they were out in the world, no longer needing you or wanting you. Did Erik even want her around him anymore? Was she just a note sender and secretary now? The thought of that made her heart sink in her chest.
Antoinette stared at her hands. They were small like the rest of her body, but had a few callouses on them from working. However, they were strong enough to give a good slap to anyone who was misbehaving or punch to any idiot who tried mugging her. "Why must you always say such horrible things about yourself? Is it not enough that you at least have one person who cares for your wellbeing? The world may hate you, but I do not!" She raised her eyes from her hands to his face, holding her gaze steady as if she could make her point by the look on her face alone. "When the world mocked you, I saw a soul that needed help. Where others feared you, I respected you. I'm your friend, Erik, and your family. Not all of humanity hates you."
Letting silence filter in, Antoinette took both pictures from where they were and set them in their respective places on the vanity behind her. She gave one fond look to the family portrait, but nothing more than that before sitting down again.
"And you never know if I'm the only person who cares about you."