The murmured conversation behind the door of the Populaire Publishing House was not quiet for long, the shrill shrieks of a notoriously hard to work with novelist turning heads throughout the entire building.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'MY MANUSCRIPT WAS LOST'?!"

"Miss Carlotta, please, I'm sure this is only a tempor-"

The large woman in front of the desk braced herself, leaning forward threateningly. "No! You know nothing of the multitude of 'mishaps' and 'mistakes' and 'temporary inconveniences' I have had to whether in my time working with Populaire!"

Richard Firmin rubbed his temples. He had only headed the Populaire for all of four days, and already faced with the rumored misfortune that had driven away the former owner. Gilles Andre just paced beside the desk, occasionally turning to the assistant who was furiously rummaging through the room, looking for Carlotta's new novel that had been sent in only a few measly days ago.

"And what force would find enjoyment in misplacing documents, Carlotta? If anything, it was mere human error, and that error will be promptly fired upon blame being properly placed. I swear it."

Carlotta's face had turned an unhealthy shade of red by this point, her eyes wide with disbelief and the final strings of patience snapping. "I will not stand for this anymore! This...This...blatant irresponsibility in regard for the forces at work here!"

Firmin looked up from his balled hands, catching Carlotta's furious gaze. He sighed, resigning to a lecture. "What forces would those be?"

Carlotta suddenly sobered, her face paling as if in remembrance of something horrific. "The Ghostwriter." She settled, pale-faced, onto a chair which groaned under her weight. "He has been here as long as any employee. Longer, I'm sure. The Ghost is not an apparition to be lightly dismissed, sirs." Carlotta's eyes rose to see a captivated audience, even the assistant frozen in her place. "It started as strange occurrences, but easily dismissed. Misprints with his name, mostly, but he's gotten larger in his attacks on the Populaire, sirs. And I won't stand for it any longer, until the cause is eliminated." Carlotta promptly rose,starting the three out of their trances.

She was storming out of the door by the time Firmin got his head together and stumbled out of his chair. "Miss Carlotta, please! Surely such stories don't affect the mind of a woman such as...yourself." The diva was already out the door before his sentence could finish itself. He could hear her making chaos among the workers as she haughtily exited the building.

Christine barely moved to the side in time to avoid the woman traipsing out of the publishing house. She clutched tighter the bundled papers in her arms, her hope for a steady payroll of some kind pressed against her chest as she moved past employees shuffling about. The door to the head office was already open, a heated debate happening between two men in suits, while a young woman sat tiredly among the stacks of disheveled papers.

Christine had heard of the open manuscript submissions this company allowed, and prayed fervently that it still held true. With no agent to speak of, Christine was helpless in auditioning for other publishers. This was her last chance to have her work published.

Christine knocked quietly on the doorframe, catching no one's attention in the room. The chaos continued on. Christine knocked again, this time louder, with only the girl on the floor looking up to meet her eyes. She seemed surprised. The little blonde girl stood up quickly, whispering something into the taller man's ear. His head turned in her direction, as for his companions.

The stouter and shorter of the two threw his hands up at the sight of her. "Oh, I've had enough! You handle this mess, Firmin. I need a nap." The little angry man stormed past Christine out the door, huffing and puffing as he shoved his way down the hall.

Christine couldn't deny she was cowed by the strange reaction to her coming, but still stepped into the room when Firmin impatiently beckoned for her to enter. The little assistant smiled at her, listening in as she turned to resume sorting the papers back onto the shelves around the room.

Firmin shuffled in his desk for paperwork. "Your name?"

Christine was startled by his abrupt speech after so much silence. "Oh! Uh...Christine. Christine Daae."

The man looked up from his application forms. "Daae? A strange name, and familiar. Any relationship to the playwright?"

"My father, sir."

"Then I do hope you inherited his great skill with words, Miss Daae. May I see your manuscript?" He held his hand out expectantly.

Christine hesitated. After all, the words were not only hers. "I hope the Populaire accepts poetry, sir. It's one of my only talents in wordplay." Part of her wondered if her angel was watching her now, seeing her work - their work - finally having a chance to succeed.

"No worries, miss. We accept most every medium of literature you can find under the sky." He looked through the manuscript, making notes with every few pages he turned. Christine took a seat, feeling her legs weakening from nerves. It was only after a solid twenty minutes that Mr. Firmin spoke again. "I think you can leave now, Miss Daae." He closed the manuscript, but did not hand it back, as Christine's sinking heart had assumed he would.

"Sir?"

He walked in front of his desk, helping her to her feet. "You should be contacted within two weeks, Christine." He smiled, placing a hand on her shoulder. "And I shouldn't be saying this, but I have great faith that you are about to achieve great things."

Christine felt a giant smile run across her face, and could barely contain the pure, unhindered hope within her. "Thank you so much, sir. This opportunity is more than I could have ever hoped for."

Firmin turned to his assistant, who was finishing up the first row of shelves. "Meg, could you escort Miss Daae out of the building?"

The girl nodded, bouncing on her feet as she grabbed Christine by the elbow, leading her out before Christine could even wave goodbye.

"You don't even know how great that was."

"Pardon?" Christine could barely keep up with anything being said, so focused was she on her own happiness.

"I've had to stand in that office all day every day since the new administrators were hired. And in every other interview, he never kept the submission! You're going to be published, I can just tell it already!" Meg grinned from ear to ear as she led Christine back the way she had come.

Meg left her at the door, shaking her hand. "I feel we'll be seeing a lot more of each other, so I'm Meg Giry! And of course you're Christine Daae. I'll see you soon!"

Christine had barely raised her hand in farewell before Meg was bounding back up the stairs to her work, leaving Christine on the pavement, confused and amazed at how much can change in one day.

'Brava, my angel of words. There's no way they won't completely fall for you. Christine. My Christine.'

Christine felt captivated by his voice and praise, emanating from somewhere near. Always somewhere near. Her angel never strayed far from her.