A/N: I've just realised how odd my chapter titles are getting. I've got to the point of disinterest where I pick a random word/idea from the chapter, and use it.
Hence, grapes.
Something else I've realised: I have never added a disclaimer before (oops...)
So...
Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera, and vaguely surprisingly, I don't have any urge to. It's too depressing. And half of the characters that I use in this fic are so OOC, I don't even see the point of writing this. But oh well. So I don't own POTO - err...is there anything else people say in these things? No? Good. /Disclaimer
Back to what I was talking about before...
Nothing actually happens in this chapter; its merely Christine getting back her nerve, and getting annoyed at Erik. Who doesn't really seem to care.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy - and reviews are appreciated!
Arcèlia
Chapter 10 - Grapes
On reflection, I should have been more prepared.
Much more.
Considering the…my…room, in any case.
"Erik…" I addressed conversationally to my kidnapper as I sat on the chair he (either courteously or freakishly) held out for me.
"Yes?" he responded, walking to the other side of the table to seat himself.
"Please don't tell me you truly, honestly believe I could actually eat all of this?"
He seemed to smile behind the mask as I gestured vaguely at the table – which held enough food for a week.
"I thought it best to be prepared," he replied calmly, taking a plate from the stack at the middle of the table.
"Insanity knows no bounds…" I murmured reflectively.
"Here."
He placed a food-covered plate before me. Drawing it closer, I eyed an innocent-looking grape warily.
There was a sigh from across the table.
"It's not poisoned, Christine," he said impatiently. Tentatively, I lifted the grape between two fingers and carefully placed it inside my mouth.
"Well?" he asked in (apparent) amusement, as I chewed it cautiously.
Something snapped within me at the question – well, more the culmination of frustration at Erik's perpetual air of superiority than at the actual question.
Swallowing, I shrugged.
"Tantalising delicious, with an inexplicably delectable aftertaste unique in its palatable imprint, melting in a wondrous cascade of the richest honey within my regrettably avariciously insatiable mouth, this…grape…" I almost lost my edge there, but managed to continue, "Is far transcendent over the most superior of its fine compatriots – which," I concluded, "as far as grapes go, is pretty good."
Darn the bloody full mask! I thought – oh, how I wished I could see his expression! – as I smiled serenely at him, reaching for the water jug.
"Happy?"
We talked as we – well really, I – ate. The conversation, while entertaining in its own way, was infuriatingly unenlightening.
"Who are you?" was answered with, "My name is Erik – you do not need to know any more than that."
Exhaling in annoyance, I sipped absent-mindedly from the glass of icy water.
"Why am I here?"
"For my own purposes – and the rest is the same as my previous answer," returned the musical, detached voice.
"What, I'm here because your name's Erik?"
"Christine…"
The way Erik warningly said my name terrified me – it was almost menacing, the way it rang so beautifully in my ears.
I've only been here one day, I thought, suddenly frightened, and I still don't know if this isn't some elaborate joke or something – if he's planning to kill me…
As I stared fixedly at the plate in front of me, biting my lip so hard I think it started to bleed, I heard a soft sigh.
"Next question?"
Slowly, I raised my head to regard him with confusion – not that there was any point, since I couldn't see his expression.
"Well?"
Uncertain, I avoided the question I most wanted to ask; instead, choosing something more innocuous.
"What do you do?" Sensing his confusion, I clarified the question,
"To earn money, I mean – what's your job?"
"Ah."
I waited expectantly for him to answer the question.
Silence…
"Well?" I prompted.
"Well, what?"
Frustrated, I sighed.
"Are you planning to answer my question before – err…before this year's over?"
I cursed myself mentally for that almost-slip-of-the-tongue – but thankfully, he didn't seem to have noticed.
"Your question? Are you referring to your query as to my source of monetary sustenance? I am a banker."
Erik's response was calm, and his voice sincere. Very sincere.
As in, it oozed sincerity.
"I don't believe you."
I think he raised an eyebrow - though obviously with the mask I couldn't be sure.
"Why ever not?" he inquired coolly. I didn't answer that (and not because I wasn't planning to.)
A phone rang.
This was actually meant to be a really long chapter, but I decided to split Chapter 10 in two - and not down the middle. So next chapter is already written, and is fairly long (by my standards.)
So...err...how was this chapter of nothing-happening-ness? As stated before, reviews are appreciated!
Cheers,
Arcèlia