"Violet Benoit?" The rather large man standing inside of an old broken door frame asked. He wasn't so large as in "fat" but more as in "larger than life," even when dressed in old dusty clothes.

Harold Zidler was a red-headed, curly haired ring-leader in a show that thousands of men, and some women, came to see from around the world: The Moulin Rouge. His constant use of electricity was one of things that brought the patrons in but more so where the young scantly clad women, his "diamond dogs," that were there to entertain the masses.

However, almost a year had passed since the Moulin Rouge was closed. The news papers had said it was do to the loss of Zidler's "Sparkling Diamond," Satine. They said she was "a brighter light than anything Zidler's electricity could produce." But those who were close to the man in charge knew better. They knew it was The Duke who had taken charge. After the death of Satine, he merely closed the club down and let it fall into ruin.

"Merely" isn't how one small reporter in a small article in a tiny newspaper had put it. "A lover scorned closes the Moulin Rouge forever! Due to affair with writer who was publicly seen with the prized diamond in Mademoiselle Satine's final performance."

"Monsieur Zidler." Violet said. Her dark auburn hair was placed carefully in a bun and hid under a dark green velvet hat, her porcelain skin and hazel eyes were brought out by her dark outfit. Her bodice was made up of the same fabric as the hat, while the skirt was a dark green, thick type fabric with an ivy print throughout it's length. "I have come to pay my respects to the dear Moulin Rouge."

Zidler was still standing in the doorway with a mild look of shock and awe plastered upon his face. "Are you THE Violet Benoit? Of THE Benoit family?" Violet smiled and chuckled.

"I am. Now, as I am here to pay my respects, I was wondering if I could ask for your company while I visit her."

Harold Zidler shook his head and smiled wildly. "Well I don't see why not. It has been a while since I've seen the old girl, ghosts and all. Let me get my coat and I will be out-or would you like tea?" He asked spur of the moment. "How rude of me, leaving a Benoit out in the streets! Please come in side." He moved so she could enter but she stayed where she was.

"Monsieur Zidler, I must decline. I have a dear friend waiting." She smiled.

"Oh..." He thought for a moment before turning his head. "Marie! I'm leaving!"

"And where are you going?" A screechy woman's voice was flew out of the kitchen.

"Out!" Zidler replied while he put an arm in his jacket's sleeve.

"Out! You're always going out and you always come back drunk! I don't think this-" Zidler closed the door.

"Women." He said under his breath as he walked down the small pathway that led to the street. "No, my car is-"

"I figured we would walk." Violet said as she began walking down the street. "I already asked my driver to meet us there."

"I see." Zidler stood in what seemed to be thought for a moment, but quickly caught up to Violet who was half way down the block. "These old bones aren't what they use to be you know. Cutting a rug on the dance floor and all." He joked. Miss Benoit only continued walking. "If you don't mind me asking," Zidler chimed up after a few minutes of silence. "What's Violet Benoit doing in wanting to see the Moulin Rouge? It's just a broken down shack now."

"I'm going to buy it." The two turned a corner where they ran into a hand full of street musicians.

"Buy the Moulin Rouge? But you're family...they buy stocks! They buy estates!"

"And I buy shacks." Violet smirked at Zidler.

"Mademoiselle Benoit, I do not mind going with you, but I don't have the deeds to the Moulin Rouge..."

"I know that. I know how to read newspapers. However, I need someone to run the business aspect. Someone to a well known figure head. For this business to work, I need you."

Harold Zidler stopped in his tracks, his eyes beginning to water. "You're joking."

"Monsieur Zidler, I don't joke about this kind of thing. I save my sense of humor for parties and other such gatherings. Now, if we will proceed continue our walk, we must meet with my friend to sign some papers." Zidler continued to be unmoving, his wet eyes growing wide.

"The Duke?"

"No. The Duke's lawyer and a friend of mine, Monsieur DePaul. Now hurry, before we are late."