Jim suddenly found himself on the karaoke floor, Molly tugging at his hand, and giggling. They were both somewhat drunk, as this had been an exceptionally enjoyable night, but Molly had had quite a bit more than Jim.
The music began and Jim suddenly realized that he hadn't known what he was about to sing. But now he recognized it. It was the theme from Phantom of the Opera. He smiled, realizing that her taste and his were similar. If he hadn't been dating this uselessly bubbly girl for information and access to Sherlock Holmes, he might consider dating her anyway (if he could decarbonate her personality)
Molly began to sing. If singing was the right word. She was awful (then again, she was drunk), so the term was probably "wailing". They managed to get through the first few verses without incident (except for a few words drunkenly swapped), and upon reaching the chorus, Jim couldn't help but start to act as well as sing.
My spirit and my voice,
In one combined.
The Phantom of the Opera is there
Inside your mind
He gave her a sinister look, but Molly burst into hysterical giggles, particularly as the awfully-recorded karaoke choir sang the backing vocals. When they reached the "sing for me" part, Jim was enjoying his amateur theatrics, even if Molly's attempts to reach ever-higher pitches was temptation enough to slip something lethal into her next drink. By the time they've finished the song, Jim was getting more and more theatrical to the point where his true self was shining through. If she'd been sober, Molly would probably have been frightened, but she wasn't.
I have needed you with me to serve me, to sing,
For my music.
My music
"My dear," he finished in the most evil way possible. As they returned to their table amid a considerable lack of applause, Jim teasingly asked if she'd ever been in choir. She nodded vigorously.
"Uh-huh, I was! How did you guess?" She beamed. Jim just smiled.
"How did you do?"
Molly looked down at her glass. "I failed out of it the second year. They told me I wasn't good anymore. I don't know why." She started to cry. "I mean, it's not like I was worse than Pamela, and she stayed in. She was just a pretty face, and I'm not."
Jim put his hand on hers. (Make it stop!) "Aww, yes you are, you're the prettiest girl in here!"
"R—really?" She wiped away a tear.
No. "Yes, of course I mean it. And if I weren't dating you already, I'd ask for your number."
"Aww, Jim, you're so sweet." She leaned in for a kiss, and Jim reluctantly obliged as they sat in the semi-darkness of the karaoke bar.