Christine walked nervously down the streets of Paris, away from Antoinette and Meg who were in a boutique getting Meg measured for a new dress. She had told them she wanted to walk the streets a bit more and see more of Paris.
As the girl neared the Notre Dame she wondered what he would look like unmasked; would he be handsome? Plain? Ugly? Though she wondered about these things she knew that in the end it really didn't matter; he had truly been charming the night before and she hadn't needed to see his face to see his sweet personality.
Christine remembered meeting a certain Karl Van Döurine, a student of her fathers few years older than her and remembered thinking he was so handsome. Of course when Karl came by and Gustaf was out he cornered Christine, whispering naughty suggestions in her ear as she struggled from his grasp.
Christine remembered his shocked exclamation of 'whore' when she hit him and told him to please leave otherwise she would tell her father. She remembered the way he had looked at her hungrily and the way he had assumed that because she was a pretty daughter of a middle class musician that perhaps she was a loose woman, uncaring about where her maidenhead went.
Christine knew what is was like to be judged by looks and what a blow it felt to have relatives think nothing more of her because she was pretty; she could surely not be smart? She must be a naughty girl who lures the boys in, Christine remembered hearing her Great Aunt Helene say when she assumed Christine was not listening, not a thought within her pretty head.
Christine reached the beautiful cathedral and gazed up at the spires and the flying buttresses and remembered reading Victor Hugo's 'La Notre Dame De Paris'. Her French tutor gave her the thick book and asked her to read it for her French progress and though it took her many months to get through the language she ended up adoring the book, reading it many times afterwards.
Now as she gazed up at the stunningly amazing piece of gothic architecture Christine couldn't help feel a surge of excitement that she was finally here standing before the cathedral.
Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder and she turned to see a man with half a white leather mask fitted over the right side of his face. He smiled nervously and bit his lip, holding out a red rose with a black ribbon tied about it.
Christine frowned, wondering as she accepted the rose; why is he wearing a mask?
"Christine…" he said, smiling and she bobbed a small curtsey, as she smelt the long stemmed red rose; the scent was divine.
"Monsieur Destler I presume?" she asked and he held out his hands as if to say 'who else could it be?'
"The very same" he said jovially and she looked at his grey lounge suit and loose black tie around his white shirt; so casual and relaxed. It was something she had not envisioned him wearing; the idea of him in his entirely black tails suit the night before looked so perfect in her mind that the only other thing she could see was maybe a long black cloak to go over it.
"I was just admiring the Notre Dame; it is so very beautiful, don't you think?" she said, pointing to the cathedral and he waved his hand flippantly, knowing there was a better place in Paris.
"Quasimodo had it tough living there…it is not a true Parisian Paradise…truly quite overrated in my opinion" he said, thinking of his beautiful Opera Garnier and wondered briefly about the true Quasimodo; how could he have possibly felt the need to live? The hunchback was deaf; what in the world was left for him without the beauty of music?
"What would make you say that? Surely seems a marvel; come on? Tell me; where would you have suggested Quasimodo live ey?" Christine joked as they began to walk around the outside of the cathedral and Erik chuckled.
"The Paris Opera House perhaps?" he suggested and Christine scrunched up her face in apprehension.
"That place?" she began as he raised an eyebrow; she didn't know if the other was raised, as truly, you could not see it with the mask on.
"What's wrong with it?" he asked slightly defensively, thinking sweetly of his home as she smiled.
"I don't know; I guess you like it being a composer and all but it somewhat gives me the chills" Christine said and Erik looked a little queasy, knowing exactly why it might've given her the chills after all the Opera Ghost stories bloody Meg told her.
"Why? Surely you don't believe in those silly Opera Ghost stories?" he asked and she shot a look at him.
"Do you?" she snapped and he shrugged.
"Well surely it isn't a real ghost; it's all such silliness really" He said and it was now her turn to raise one eyebrow.
"Silliness? Meg told me he's killed people," she said seriously and Erik realised he didn't feel too fabulous as a lump entered his throat. He had never felt any guilt or emotion except satisfaction over the murders he had committed until this girl came along, and now, all he felt was shame.
"I feel whoever's doing it must be a little…unhinged" Erik said delicately, trying to cover up his moment's uneasiness as he spotted a seat and went to sit upon it. Christine followed him and sat next to him.
For the next hour they talked deeply about Paris, the stupidity of high society, how asinine the English truly were, what Opera's they fancied and who they had seen perform, what books they had read and which authors and styles they preferred.
It was only when the daylight began to disappear over the horizon did Christine realise the time and how cold it had gotten. She stood, shivering as snowflakes began to fall and Erik stood and called a hansom.
As they sat in the carriage Erik stared at her rosy cheeks and pink nose, flushed from the sudden chilly breeze and how pretty she looked with her hair tied back with slight tendrils springing out of place. Christine was wearing a periwinkle blue dress with a matching muff and lace upon the sleeves, corseted firmly but not so she was gasping for breath.
She noticed him looking at her and she smiled, realising that after the initial shock she hadn't even noticed the mask the entire time.
"I've hardly noticed that all this time" she said, pointing to the hard white mask and he raised his hand up protectively to his face. "I didn't mean to offend it's just, it seems to sort of blend in with you…I don't think I'm making any sense am I?" she apologised and he shook his head.
"No, no, I'm surprised you haven't tried to pull it off" he said and she shrugged.
"If you wanted it off you wouldn't wear it" she said simply and he smiled, liking the girl a whole lot more.
"Please stop" Christine called out and the carriage came to a stop outside the apartment building where the Girys apartment was.
Erik helped her out of the carriage and she smiled, tingling as her hand touched his gloved one, still holding her rose carefully, snowflakes sprinkling across the deep red petals.
"Christine…I was wondering" Erik said slowly, staring at his feet. He wondered what was the matter with him? he was normally impulsive and proud, but then again he never interacted with women like this.
"Yes?" she asked hopefully, wondering what was going to come.
"If you would give me the pleasure of courting you?" he spat out finally, and her eyes widened and she nodded.
"Of course" she said and suddenly his lips were pressed against hers and she melted as his hand glanced her side.
But soon he was gone, walking fast down the street, cursing himself for being impulsive.
As usual.