Erik did not really know what to do sometimes. He adored the presence of the beautiful young lady in his house by the lake, and even an unpleasant scenario had played between them while the unmasking, the girl seemed to be calmer around him in these days that followed. Yet, he wasn't too much used to having company, and he was a bit of shy and uncomfortable. What to do with guests? What to talk about? How to entertain her other than music…? He played and sang as much as he could, but one can't just literally sing all the time. It was tiring both emotionally and physically for both of them after a while, so they just sat silently. Erik did not mind it too much, but he could see Christine was feeling awkward about too long silence. He should talk to her, perhaps…? But what to tell her? A love confession is sure not a good idea right now. Let her just get through the trauma, we shouldn't pester her. Some subconscious manipulating maybe will do later, but nothing direct at this moment. Then what do women like….? Hm. Maybe make her tell some more about herself?

- You have told me you were from Sweden, right? – He asked just casually.

- Yes I am. – Christine nodded.

- How long have you been living in Paris?

- A few years, since my father's death. I have finished the conservatory here.

- Good job. – Erik nodded. – You are perfectly fluent in French.

- I learned it in my childhood. I spent much time in France.

With that wretched boy you did spend much – too much time with, my dear. And now you met again and oh, look at that cute couple! What a handsome sailor. What a nice nose he has. The little rat… Oh, French is the language of love, isn't it? How cute you two are when you coo "I love you" to each other!

Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no. Erik, you shall calm down and not to make a scandal. She is here with you and she can't escape now, remember? Your jealousy fit is uncalled for at this very moment and will only cause her to be afraid of you. She is finally starting to forget the trauma your hideousness had caused her… be gentle. Be casual.

Instead of throwing a tantrum, Erik took some shuddering deep breaths to calm down and closed his eyes for some seconds. He pretended to pack the sheet music on the top of the piano and put them back on the bookshelf where they belonged to. Only after he composed himself enough for talking, he continued, and he was determined to stay positive. Let's praise her, girls love that.

- I noticed you have a great memory, it sure helped with learning languages.

- How do you know that?

- You learn parts easily. – Erik stated.

- Well, you might find it strange but I only have good memory with texts that have a melody to them. They have to rhyme or have a good rhythm. Then I will remember anything.

- Of course. You are musical. – Erik smiled. This smile finally was an honest one, because he succeeded in remembering that enchanting voice.

- Thank you. – She smiled as well, blushing. – Well, I tell you a secret. I only told this to my closest friends.

For example de Chagny?

No, Erik, don't get jealous, don't… Take some deep breaths. Drink tea. No, you fool, don't even THINK of drinking in front of her! You have to lift the mask to drink, you idiot. Can't you even remember that, you stupid creature?

- What that secret may be, my dear? – He looked at Christine curiously, finally understanding that Christine just called him a friend. If she is willing to share such a secret, it means she considers him worthy of that title! Good enough!

- When I had to learn a poem without music, I tried to write music for it. It was way easier to learn like that.

- Oh, that sounds sweet. – He admitted warmly. – Do you remember any of them, hm?

- I remember all of them. – She blushed and covered her mouth with her hand. – But I am not singing any of them to you.

- Why? – Erik's eyes narrowed in displeasure. – Maybe I am not a music expert enough for you to understand them, huh? – He growled.

- That's not the case. – She retorted. – It is hard to open up to you and accept your conditions if you take everything as an insult.

- Erik is sorry. – He went down on his knees in front of her, clinging to the hem of her dress. – Erik did not mean to be cruel… he did not mean to be sarcastic… he asks for your forgiveness. He takes everything as an insult as he had received nothing but insult from people… he doesn't think one would say anything else but insult to him. Forgive him, Christine…

Oh, he does that again. Crying at her feet, clinging to her dress, referring to himself in third person. It is so annoying, stop it!

- Erik please stop. – She tried her best to talk as nicely as she could to that lunatic. – Please, I just… I just did not want to sing them to you because I think they are too simple. You wouldn't like them. I am not a composer, only a singer.

- I am sure they are beautiful just like you. – Erik admitted.

- They are in Swedish.

- The lyrics may be, my sweet Christine, but not the music. – He finally let out a small chuckle. – Music, my love, is a language everyone understands. That is the point. No need for interpreters.

- You are right… but… do you promise you will not laugh at me if I sing ONE of them to you, just to make you happy? I warned you, they are simple.

- I will praise each and every second when I hear you sing anything, Christine. Even the most banal and ridiculous little song will be heavenly music to me if you sing it.

- One thing is sure: you are a master of compliments if you want something.

Christine shrugged, then started singing a Swedish poem she composed music for, long time ago. Yes, indeed, it was simple, banal, and nothing special. Any child who have studied music for two or three years could make up such a simple melody by listening to music a lot. No talent or imagination is required to create such a song- but Erik loved it because it was sung to him by his sweet little Christine.