RS: This one took longer than I thought. I rewrote it a couple times in between a whole bunch of projects for various classes. It's kind of short, but I didn't want to make it longer than it needs to be. Oh, and happy Valentine's Day!

Christine gently set the now-empty bowl down on the table. She had argued to herself back and forth, trying to decide whether or not the soup was safe to eat, before her stomach made the decision for her. It didn't seem as if the stranger in the mask wanted to poison her, anyway.

It was over an hour since Erik disappeared to another room. Occasionally, Christine heard the sounds of paper being forcibly torn, then a crumple and the light thump of a rejected piece hitting the floor. They were more infrequent now, leading Christine to believe that Erik was making less errors in his work, whatever that might be. She frowned, poking at her mind in a vain effort to remember anything about the strange man, and whether or not he posed any sort of danger.

His voice was certainly something, when she wasn't being frightened by him. Surely she couldn't forget something like his voice! After several moments of concentrating on it, she gave up and accepted that she really couldn't remember anything. Erik's voice was simply like words, she decided. She knew it, but she was clueless as to how she knew it.

Bored and uncertain of whether or not Erik would take kindly to her snooping about the house, Christine stretched herself out of the couch and began to daydream. Maybe she was actually a princess, and Erik was her guard. Or, she could have been about to marry a prince, but was caught in that accident and a well-meaning if eccentric resident rescued her, and now she was late for the wedding she could not even remember! She might have been off to an unhappy arranged marriage, and was kidnapped. Her speculations grew grander by the minute. Perhaps is was vain of her to imagine her life as such, but she had nothing else to do.

"Maybe my life is worthy of a book! An opera, even!" she laughed to herself. Something about the notion of her life being made into an opera made her smile. How silly. Surely my life hasn't been quite that dramatic.

She yawned and stretched herself, hanging her head upside-down over the arm rest. Her hair fell over the side of the couch, and she swished it from side to side, listening to it brush against the floor. Christine looked around, enjoying the view of the decor from the new angle. This time, however, the room was not empty. A pair of yellow eyes was watching her with... amusement? Immediately, she straightened herself into a more respectable position. "Good afternoon," she said cautiously. Surely he hadn't been there for very long. She didn't hear a thing!

He blinked, an action which was clearly visible because the rest of him was in shadow. "You are being friendlier. Have you remembered you Erik, perhaps?" the masked man asked.

Christine shook her head sadly. "I have tried. If I could not remember you, with your voice and your... Ah, well, If I could not remember you, I think it is time I gave up trying for now." As soon as the words left her mouth, she began to pray that he didn't feel insulted by that.

For a few uncomfortable seconds, Erik merely watched her, before separating himself from the shadows in a curious manner. "Perhaps you require assistance in remembering?" he suggested, sweeping the remnants of Christine's meal off the table. They vanished in the blink of an eye, and he seated himself gracefully on the table. Christine was about to answer, when something seemed to occur to Erik. "Ah! But I have forgotten! Was the soup to your liking, Christine? If you should prefer it, Erik can easily obtain whatever food you desire. You must understand that he does not have much cause to cook, so he apologizes if the soup was less than perfect."

Erik awaited Christine's answer with an odd sort of hopefulness. She shook her head, and his body language showed disappointment. Oh, no, he misinterpreted me! "No, I don't mean that it was bad! I mean than you don't need to worry, because the soup was fine. Really," she said quickly.

He studied her, as if she would reveal the truth if he stared at her for long enough. And maybe she would have, if she had lied. Finally, he looked away. "That is good," he said simply. Erik rose from the table and began to move in the direction of the door.

"Wait!" Christine called. He stopped, and looked back at her. She could imagine him raising an eyebrow behind his mask. "You...you said..." Her voice faltered. She cleared her throat and tried again. "You mentioned helping me remember?"

"Yes, Erik knows your past," he replied slowly. "But he is not sure that Christine will believe him. You do not seem to trust me anymore," he said.

Christine paused. It was true, she didn't quite trust him. However, she had no real reason to not trust him either, save for his strange appearance."I will decide on that after I hear what you have to tell me," she declared, rising from the couch. Erik gestured for her to walk ahead of him, and she did, holding herself up high. Christine's heart was beating quickly, and she tried to force it to slow. Excitement and misgivings alternated in her mind, until she temporarily silenced her doubts by reassuring herself that she didn't have to believe Erik's stories, just listen.

Following behind her, Erik was thankful for the mask. She could not see his smile, and his nervous hands went unnoticed, for she remained focused on what was in front of her.