A/N: For those unfamiliar with my other Phantom of the Opera stories, in my personal headcanon Mathilde is Madame Giry's given name. In all of my PotO stories, Erik should be pictured as Leroux's version, with the more severe deformity and the mask covering his entire face, while his voice is that of Michael Crawford's magnificent stage portrayal. All other characters can be pictured as those from Webber's 2004 movie.
Written for the 2015 Caesar's Palace Shipping Week, Day 3. Prompt: Lissome.
Word Count: 200
Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera is the property of Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. No copyright infringement is intended.
"Bravi! Bravi! Bravissimi!"
Mathilde jumped and spun away from the barre. The thin, pale boy was leaning carelessly against the mirror behind her.
"Foolish Erik," she said. "I was only stretching. If you are going to give compliments, wait for something worth complimenting."
He pushed off the mirror and slowly crossed the dressing room toward her. "There is grace and beauty in every movement you make."
She laughed lightly. "That is because you are in love with me. You can sing, Erik, but you have no eye for dance."
"I have an eye for everything that has to do with you."
Mathilde turned and crossed purposefully to her dressing table, hoping the movement masked her embarrassed pleasure. "Faugh, you are as inane as any opera hero," she tossed back at him. "You should be on the stage; then we should see if people would love you or laugh at you for your foolishness."
"Or scream in terror upon seeing my face," Erik said quietly.
She paused and turned to face him, deep sadness in her eyes. "Yes. Perhaps it is better that you perform only for an audience of one."
"I will do so forever, if that audience is you."