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((Wouldn't dream of it. I'm talking strictly ballet sequences that every Opera has. Not that they'll ever get performed. XD))

Meg turned to the girl.

" I guess I'm in it. Only one scene though. I just catch a bag of money, twirl, and leave. This is an extra copy they had so I asked for it. Another opera not being in the ballet. Besides Sorelli's breath reaks of smoke and I can't stand it any more."

Meg turned back to the script.

" It seems Christine got the lead role."

Sorelli heard Meg and Martine talking as they walked toward the practice room. The older ballerina (she was nearing three and twenty by now) frowned deeply, seeing the two girls looking at an opera script. The little Giry had taken a script? The ballerinas weren't allowed scripts! They were only told to twirl and look desireably adorable or enchanting. Whatever the scene called for.

"Well Little Meg, I see we can add thievery to your reputation." She said cockily, grabbing it from her grasp before flipping through the pages, reading snippets. Ooh, this thing was delightfully scandalous! Sorelli licked her bottom lip, then turned her head to cough. Those cancer sticks were getting to her. "Oh I can't wait to see what the Madame comes up for this one. We'll all be running around onstage in our evening gowns!" The raven-haired woman guffawed.

Done with the script, she gave it back, ruffling the young blonde's hair. She then looked to Martine, giving her a catty look.

"Gossip's never been your thing, Martine. I would think you knew better."

La Sorelli (as she was known to most, even the few patrons she "catered" to) had an attitude most found perplexing for one of her position on society's conceited ladder. She was pretty, but her words often blotted out such physical niceties. Not to say she was a "raving b***h" since she tended to look after some of the younger girls when the Madame was busy, but she wasn't Mother Theresa either. Most just said the way she acted was because of her recent habit of smoking.

Walking into the practice room, she went to the stretch bar, straightening her leg out on the bar before bending forward to let her forehead touch her knee. She repeated the process with her other leg before bending both legs at the knee and making a sweeping motion with her arm.

Straightening back up, she pointed her heels together, making sure to keep her balance, and made yet another sweeping motion with her arm. All while holding on to the bar.

((Gave Sorelli a different personality. >> ))

"I...I don't know. A part of me wants to think that he was just wearing a mask like everyone else last night, and he was so solid. I thought all ghosts were...transparent and that you you could pass right through them. He was solid enough to grab that ring from around Christine's neck," she said, deciding to continue gossiping just because of Sorelli's words.

That woman was lucky she had her looks going for her. Once she destroyed her lungs with those cigarettes she wouldn't be able to dance anymore. No one wanted a prima ballerina who couldn't dance for being unable to breath.

"He looked more like a man than a ghost."

(( We need to start posting here people! *Looks at all the members......*))

"Two foolish men have thus far been spared the fullness of my wrath, but their luck will run out if they continue down this chosen path."

The managers both froze at the singsong voice that echoed through their office, Andre's face reddening, then paling at the implications of both the voice and what it had said.

"What on earth does he want from us now?" Andre muttered.

"I haven't any idea, Monsieur. We're doing his blasted Opera. I don't see what he has to complain about from us," Firmin grumbled, though he, unlike Andre, was careful to keep his voice down when he said this.

Andre sighed. "One can find something to criticize about anything, my friend. It is how the world works. Well, shall we take this off our minds, and see how the rest of our business is taking this?"

"I don't see how that will take our minds off of the opera..." Firmin said doubtfully.

"It gets our mind off the composer, which is the important thing." Andre stood and moved towards the door. "Well? Are you coming?"

Firmin sighed, stood up as well, and followed his business partner out.

((You'll all have to give me some time to get into the swing of college life. Tonight I have to translate the sylabus I got for my foreign language class to find out what homework I have for that class, read the prologue of Guns, Germs, and Steel, and and read the first chapter of my psychology book. I also have to get a book that I didn't know I needed for my English class, and I have to turn in a copy of my schedule to Dr. Veale so that I can start my voice lessons. I'll do a real post as soon as I get the chance.))