The next night, Erik again returned to the opera house above. He found that the strange woman was sitting in Box Five again. But this time he sat down right next to her rather than run away.

The woman didn't so much as glance in his direction when he sat. She wore a black dress again; it was rather posh and reminded him of Madame Giry. Repulse filled him at the thought of her, and especially of her daughter after she attempted to murder his son then fatally shot Christine.

Erik cleared his throat. "Lovely evening isn't it, Madame?" he said in English.

She stayed completely still but said "Why are you sitting here attempting to make small talk with me?"

He was surprised but slightly pleased when she spoke to him in French. He was much more comfortable speaking French. "Why are you sitting in my box?" he asked in return, in French this time.

"Your box?" she scoffed. "As far as I remember, no one has occupied this box since the opera house was sold last year."

Erik did vaguely remember the opera house being sold to a new company while he was moping about underground for a year. "Well it's still my box, new company or not, so I shall sit here if I please."

The woman finally looked at him. "Why are you wearing that mask?" Her piercing grey eyes were harshly inquisitive.

Erik chuckled softly. "I could ask you the same question, Madame."

"My name is Émilie and I'm not a married old crone yet, so if you could please stop calling me Madame," she snapped.

"My apologies, Mademoiselle Émilie. I'm Erik."

"A pleasure to meet you," she said flatly.

"Likewise," he murmured.

The lights began to dim and the curtains rose onstage. Silence fell between the two masked people as the show began. Neither moved or spoke at all until intermission.

During intermission they both sat in awkward silence for several minutes, not going anywhere or saying anything and it made Erik slightly uncomfortable with this Émilie woman.

He attempted to pick conversation back up. "So where are you from?"

"France."

"Well I assumed that much, considering we're speaking French," he said, a bit irritated.

"Orléans," she finally replied hesitantly.

"I'm from Paris."

They sat for a few moments in silence. He began to ask another question. "So-"

"I really don't like thinking, much less talking about my past," she interrupted.

Erik grimaced. "Well that's something we have in common, then."

Émilie turned towards him. Her grey eyes pierced his yet again. "You're a very odd man, Erik."

He smirked. "You're a very odd woman, Émilie. I guess that's another thing we have in common."

The lights began to dim, cuing the end of intermission, and they fell silent once more.

Erik found it difficult to focus on the show for the remainder of it. He could only think about the woman sitting next to him. "Those grey eyes seem so familiar... who is she? And why does she hide her face behind that mask? Surely she can't be as hideous as me..." He felt a desire to see her face; his curiosity was driving him mad.

He felt his hand slowly rising towards her porcelain mask but stopped himself. That would be rather rude of him, and he knew from personal experience that people who wear masks typically don't like to be forcibly unmasked in public.

He could see her flash a scrutinizing glance at him out of the corner of his eye so he made no further attempt after that.

It seemed like the opera would never end, but at last the curtains fell back down and the lights came back on. Émilie rose from her seat and turned to leave without so much as a goodbye. As she was leaving, Erik stood and grabbed her gloved hand. "Wait!"

She stopped. "What?"

"I," he mumbled, "um, well..."

"Oh, get on with it," she snapped.

He just needed to keep her long enough to be able to get her mask off. He wouldn't be able to rest until his curiosity was sated.

"Would you... would you like to... go eat dinner or... something?" he finally managed to say.

Émilie's eyes looked surprised. "Are you asking to take me on a date?"

"Yes... I mean no! I-"

He was interrupted by Émilie's laughter. It was a bright, tinkly laughter that reminded him of Christmas bells. He suddenly felt very embarrassed. "Maybe if I kidnap her..." went through his head.

"Well that's something I don't hear everyday," she said, sounding amused.

"So you would like to... to stay with me?" he asked hopefully.

"Oh no, I really should be getting on home."

"Please! Just... just give me a chance." He was getting desperate.

Émilie sighed. "Well... I suppose an hour or two won't hurt..."

Erik grinned out of joy for the first time in a while. He extended his arm for her to take. "Shall we be off then?"