A loud screeching sounded out from below, shocking Erik into freezing in his tracks.
"Ow!" Christine stopped too late, bumping into his cloaked backside. She grasped his arm to steady herself. "Why'd you stop?"
They stood on the catwalks, far above the stage, cloaked from view.
Erik did not initially reply to her, staring at a small figure on the lower stage. His gaze quickly hardened into a glare.
"Carlotta," he growled. "Those incompetent so-called 'managers' disobeyed my warnings and let her sing again. If it could even be called singing."
Christine looked down at the red-headed, whom of which was practicing her scales. At the higher notes, however, the woman's voice cracked. Christine winced, and Erik visibly flinched.
"What're you going to do?" Christine turned to meet his gaze. "Nothing violent, I hope?"
A sigh. "Of course not, my Christine. I would never think of harming La Carlotta."
His tone was laced with heavy sarcasm. Christine raised an eyebrow.
Down below, Carlotta squealed particularly loudly, leaving both of their ears ringing.
Pained, the unmasked half of Erik's face scrunched up in a grimace.
"I've heard enough, this ends now."
Reaching over, he grasped an idle sandbag in his gloved hands. He hoisted it up, and dropped it down onto the stage.
It missed Carlotta by a centimeter, landing directly in front of her feet. A scream escaped her lips.
He turned to find Christine with her arms crossed, a lone eyebrow raised.
"I know," he sighed, "But please, my dear, I could not handle any more of that torture."
And he strode down the catwalks, eager to escape the hysterics of Carlotta and the managers down below, completely missing the small smile that grew on his beloved's face.