I spent the rest of the night hiding in my laboratory. I had a few experiments to check on and there was nothing like science to make you forget the world around you. Music worked equally well but I couldn't play while Christine was here sleeping. I emerged from my haven of science some time in the early morning, refreshed and once more stable. I ran myself a bath and let my mind wander as I indulged.

I had been completely out of control last night. When she demanded to see my face the thoughts of my mother were so close to the surface and I was so overly tired that I'd completely snapped. I groaned and submerged my head thinking of everything that had occurred. It was incredibly easy to read the emotions on her face as I'd been taught to do by Persia's most powerful of men. She'd been terrified of my face, but desperate for me to forgive her and then the utter disbelief when I'd kissed her. Perhaps I did it wrong? It had felt extremely good for about two seconds and then I'd felt like a letch. I was like a child snatching up the piece of candy the second it was offered. 'Please forgive me' she had pleaded 'I'll do anything'. I didn't fully understand why she was apologizing to me but I'd just seized the opportunity to kiss her like I was one of those uncontrollable skirt hounds panting after her…

I exploded from under the water and the rivulets ran down my face. I closed my eyes to enjoy the feeling of something touching my face and then fastidiously began scrubbing every inch of my skin. What would happen today? Would she want to leave after witnessing my depraved behavior? Would it be worse if she stayed? Would she be able to forgive me for attacking her in that manner? Would I be able to forgive myself and act normally around her? As normal as I am...

I perused my closet for an outfit. I was a terrible clothes hound for a man but I just loved to wrap myself in perfectly tailored luxurious materials. Nothing else would ever wrap itself around this body, might as well enjoy the little pleasures that were left to me. I chose a dark grey pair of slacks and my usual white dress shirt, tying my deep green ascot securely around my neck. I chose a lighter grey waistcoat but only laid it on the bed. For now I threw on my burgundy smoking jacket and went to light the fire and make some tea.

Her bedroom door was still closed and I wondered again if she would stay or go. She may decide to take her chances with Raoul seeing as I already molested her. I grimaced at the tea preparations with distaste. Would I never stop thinking of it? I hoped she could forgive me and we could still be friends. I didn't want to imagine her emerging from her room with her bag in hand demanding I take her back upstairs. I wanted to remain friends and remain her teacher to enjoy her radiant voice, shining smiles and twinkling laughter. But friends did not steal kisses like that. Not just a small kiss either, I just had to taste the inside of her mouth.

"Bah!" I threw down the metal tea ball and it splattered satisfyingly on the counter. I turned and stared at her door as I sipped the scalding hot tea. If she decided to forgive me and stay I would be the perfect gentleman. I would not touch her at all. I would speak to her kindly and gently. I would get her anything she needed.

I turned from her door to go to the piano. When the hours spent in lessons with Christine had begun to accumulate, the piano began to draw me with increasing vigor. I wanted to create beautiful music for her to sing. Music worthy of an angel. But many of my attempts had failed. It never sounded sweet enough or soft enough. There was always a hard edge to my music and I suppose it was because I only had hard edges to work with. I pulled out one of the half finished songs and flexed my fingers over the keys before I checked the time. It was after nine. I hoped it was socially acceptable to be woken at this time, if she wasn't already up wanting to run screaming from my cave.

I'd only been playing for a few minutes when her door opened. I was afraid to stop lest she stand there in hat and jacket, bag in hand, but after delaying for a minute or so I stopped and turned on the bench.

She was hesitant in the doorway, her long hair braided loosely down the side of her neck. She had just a dress and shoes on so it seemed she was still staying with me.

How desperate she must be to stay here with me…

"Good morning, Christine," I loved to roll her name off my tongue.

"Good morning, Erik," she replied softly as her hands rose to grasp the tail of her hair.

"Did you warm your throat this morning?" I immediately fell into my harsh instructor tone. I was comfortable in that role but I scolded myself in my head. Try to be nice, Erik. Make up for last night.

"Yes," her voice shrank a little as her eyes slid from my masked face to roam down my seated frame. Her slow perusal made me feel very odd and I sat up even straighter as her eyes came back to my face.

"Please be comfortable in my home, anything you require don't hesitate to ask," I turned back to the piano knowing that I hadn't been nice at all. Maybe you should ask her how she slept. Was the bed comfortable? Did she have enough blankets? There was no fireplace in the spare room and I had purchased the thickest blankets I could to keep her warm. I also noticed that she was wearing one of her tired dresses and wondered why she didn't pick something pretty from the closet. Didn't all girls like pretty clothing?

I stopped writing and realized Christine had moved closer as if to see what I was doing. I glanced over my shoulder at her.

"Did you require something?" I prompted and then cursed myself. I was an ingrained asshole.

"No," she shook her head for emphasis her hands still tightly clamped around her hair as if it could protect her. She came forward some more and I dropped my hands to my lap sort of surprised that she wasn't more frightened of me, especially since I was terrible at being nice.

"Are you busy?" she stopped at my blank expression, "Should I leave you be?"

"No no," I assured her, if she was willing to be nice to me I could at least pay her the same respect. "You do not have to leave me. I'm just writing some music."

She smiled with interest and came closer still until she was standing beside the piano bench. "You write music?"

"Yes," I turned back and jotted a few notes down as if to illustrate that I could indeed write music. "Would you like to hear what I've written?"

"Yes please," she smiled wider and I dove into the music so I wouldn't have to look at her childlike joy. It seemed she would forgive me my trespasses. I played what I'd written so far and stopped abruptly where the music notes ended.

"Oh," she exclaimed prettily, "How will it end?" her voice was breathlessly excited and I glanced at her again to find her bright eyed and waiting for the end of my song like it was a story that wasn't complete.

"I have not decided," I played a few chords but stopped, not wanting to decide with her watching over my shoulder.

"Papa wrote music," she didn't sound as sad as she usually did at mention of 'Papa'.

"Did he?" I was getting better at this casual conversation thing.

"Oh yes, they made the best bedtime stories," she looked at the music sheet in front of me a little dreamily and I felt like she was staring at my gloved hands. I filed the sheet of music into its pile to be put away later and stood. I suppose it was time to entertain my guest.

"Do you like to read?" I queried.

"Very much," she nodded.

"I have a small library of books," I gestured towards the bookshelves that spanned one entire corner in my little cave, and she followed me quietly to see my books. Even though I'd always known she was shy, it was more pronounced this morning but she was still quietly eager, nodding her head or shaking it vigorously if I asked her a direct question. Within ten minutes I was sure that she had forgiven me completely and was willing to forget what happened last night. Some tension left me as she talked quietly about her father telling her stories.

"He was a marvelous story teller and would act out Shakespeare for me sometimes," her hand trailed absently over my complete Shakespeare collection.

"Please feel free to borrow anything you like," I stood back wondering if I should leave her side. What was proper? Why couldn't someone have written a book about how to act around a young lady?

"Thank you," she murmured as her eyes travelled over the many spines, I could almost see her imagination running rampant within the pages. "I will thank you."

We fell silent and I didn't feel it was appropriate for me to just leave her side so soon in her visit to my dungeon. I should prove to her and myself that I could be a gentleman, so I stood silent and still with my arms clasped behind my back as she walked slowly, reading the spines of my many books. I didn't have them in any particular order and I thought about apologizing for that when she exclaimed.

"Oh," her little exhalation was surprised and I leaned forward slightly.

"Something catch your interest?" I asked eager to fill the silence.

Her hands curled around her hair again and her eyes never left the spine of one book. I tried to glance and see which one but couldn't tell, so I looked back at her profile which was quite pleasing to look at, as usual, and waited for her answer.

"I was reading a book to Papa, because his eyesight was getting poor. I would read to him every night…we never finished 'The Adventures of Robinson Crusoe'." I now saw the book she was staring at but wasn't sure what the appropriate thing to say would be. I wanted to tell her to finish it but would that be rude with her precious Papa so recently deceased?

"I could tell you the ending," I offered remembering her eagerness to here the end of my song.

"Oh no," she laughed suddenly and looked over at me, her face brightening in a most becoming manner as her eyes sparkled, "That's cheating, Erik!" she turned back to the book biting her lip adorably and I was fully enchanted. She reached out for the book and tipped it off the shelf into her hands. "May I borrow this one?"

"Of course," I replied with a little difficulty.

"I'll read it out loud so Papa can listen too," she clutched the book to her chest and looked about twelve years old. As endearing and enchanting as her innocence was, it made me feel even more lecherous about last night. The thought of it brought heat to my face and I was glad she had turned her attention to the book. Even though I'd asked her to forget last night, I was surprised that she could and would. How could a sweet girl like Christine forget an assault of that manner? Unless…

She was okay with what happened? She did not slap me after the stolen kiss, which I richly deserved. She came after me, post-mask explosion and hugged me to her like she would hold me together. The intoxicating feel of her body against mine… Could I maybe feel that again?

Christine looked up from the book and smiled shyly, her eyes lit with her inner glow and I was mesmerized.

Enchanting fairy, come play with my heart…

"Would you read to me?" I heard my voice ask with an almost childlike wonder. No one had ever read to me before and the thought of Christine's girlish voice doing just that made the youthful plea rise up from within me.

"Right now?" she laughed a little not taking me seriously.

"Do you have time or are you terribly busy?" I asked completely seriously even though I was trying to make a joke. She laughed and put the back of her hand to her forehead.

"Terribly busy," she drawled and then covered her mouth to giggle. I watched her laugh wondering what it would be like to laugh with her and Christine sobered, drawing her brows down to consider me. "You want me to read aloud to you?"

"I asked if you would," I got nervous at my childish request and fell directly into teacher mode, "Because it is good to practice your pronunciation. Proper pronunciation is key. How can you sing beautifully if people can not understand you?" I was such a bastard, a manipulative ass who suddenly desired this young woman's attention more than anything.

"You must have spent years reading aloud," she said with a quiet laugh and I cocked a brow at her quizzically for an explanation, "Your voice is utterly amazing."

---

Christine

---

"Your voice is utterly amazing." The one singular thought that roamed every time he spoke to me. I could listen to his voice all day, all night, forever.

He went still is the only way to explain the stone like statue that stood before me. He lost that little bit of relaxation that he'd only just revealed to me. He'd been almost playful, in his stoic way, making a joke with me and I'd managed to ruin it somehow. I don't think he even blinked for the minute that we stood there in the oppressive silence. His eyes were locked on mine as if he was trying to see into my soul again and I wanted to look away but found that I couldn't. His eyes were so spectacular, the long dark lashes framing the grey currents of his dominant personality, the left eye darkly shadowed by the mask. I felt weak in his presence and wanted to break the spell he was casting on me.

"Where shall we sit?" I asked as loudly as I could which didn't seem to be very loud, as I raised the book into the crook of my arm. He swept his arm towards the couch.

"We can sit there."

I sat nervously at one end of the couch and opened the book. Erik sat at the other end and curled his gloved hands over his knees. His white clad fingers looked impossibly long and thin against the dark of his dress pants and I remembered how wonderful they'd looked as he played for me just a moment ago. I peeled my eyes from his hands and started flipping to where Papa and I left off.

"Have you read this book?" I asked thoughtfully, not wanting to ruin the experience for him and then remembered he'd offered to tell me the end. "Never mind, I…I," forgot what you said two seconds ago? I felt the blush paint my cheeks. He stayed silent and imperious beside me and eventually I took a deep breath and started.

At first I was shy, not speaking very loudly at all. I always seemed to act so juvenile around him. He made me nervous though, his emotionless expression so exact it was like another mask on his face. I'd been trying to not think of his face under the white mask, the swirling darkness in his eyes; trying not to think of his long gloved fingers hard against my skull, his tongue in my mouth…

I faltered the next sentence and stopped to control my thoughts. Concentrate on the story. I glanced quickly at Erik and found his eyes closed, his brow drawn down slightly. It looked like he was concentrating and listening carefully.

I cleared my throat to cover the fumble, "Pardon me," I said softly and then continued with more seriousness. Erik was one hundred percent devoted to the further education of my singing talents and I wasn't giving him enough. I should be using every opportunity to impress him. I have been listening and learning. I swear. Not just staring vapidly…

When I finished the chapter he rose quickly as if he had known the chapter was ending.

"That is enough for now. We can continue tonight if you like, or save it for a daily exercise?" his one uncovered eyebrow rose, which was the one expression he allowed himself, to ask a question or express confusion.

"Yes," I said stupidly, instead of giving him an answer. I clutched the book to my chest again as if it could shield me. "Whatever you like…" he nodded slightly and moved to the fire. I watched him tend to it, his hands just as graceful as always. They flowed as if playing with the air as they completed their task. My eyes couldn't stop watching as he tended to such a menial thing as fire. When he stood I realized that I'd been sitting there staring at him and I dropped my eyes to my lap self-consciously.

"Excuse me a moment, Christine," he bowed slightly and strode to his bedroom. My ears buzzed with my name on his lips and I shuddered. Being around him all the time was so intense. I'd meant to ask him directly about the room and its missing occupant but seeing him at the piano had reminded me of my rudeness last night, and then he'd distracted my thoughts with his music, his fingers flying over the keys like nothing I'd ever seen, taking my breath away with a song unlike any I've ever heard and then his wonderful wall of books... I stood with a shaky breath. I will just ask him when he comes back out.

I wondered how good my reading was. Papa never complained but reading to Erik was different. As my teacher, I'm sure he would have critiques but I wondered what my Phantom guardian and my friend thought of my reading. I screwed my face as I replaced the book on its shelf. Now I was thinking of him as seperate entities? Well, Meg did seem to have multiple Megs residing in her, suppose Erik just had multiples of himself? I shook my head at the odd thoughts and thought instead about how strange it was to see someone play piano with gloves on. Even though it probably made it difficult, it didn't seem to hold him back at all, but it made me conclude there was something unsightly about his hands as well. If he was taught to wear that mask then he would automatically think he needed to cover anything unpleasant about himself. My heart ached wondering who had twisted Erik's view of himself so badly. The mask on his face hardly mattered to me and now that I'd seen the face underneath it I wished he would just leave it off but it mattered to him, a lot, and I decided I would never mention the mask or his face again.

I found myself thinking of his bare face though as I trailed my fingers over the old spines. The angry, bruise colored skin, puckered but stretched thin, a shallow indent where there should have been a fleshy cheek. Very ugly, as he described it but to me, it was interesting. Was it result of injury or was he born that way? What did it feel like? Why cover it up? Who told him to cover it up? How did the mask stay on his face? How was I to bring up the discussion of the bedroom? Did he forgive me for my attitude last night? Did he enjoy my company at all or was I only endured because he felt sorry for me? I glanced behind me at his closed door. He never smiled or laughed, but then I remembered all the sadness I'd seen in him last night and thought of how sad I'd been when Papa died and how impossible laughter seemed at the time. My throat tightened and I wondered what would make Erik that sad all the time. Would he ever trust me enough to tell me? After the way I behaved last night I doubted it. Now more than ever I probably seemed like nothing but a tiresome burden.

His door opened and I jumped. He'd removed his burgundy sweater and changed into a cinched vest that flattered his lean physique. The dark green tie and grey clothing, with his black hair and white mask all looked so well put together that I didn't think I'd ever meet another man who dressed himself as well. My hands locked automatically around my braid as he walked towards me and I realized the way he moved wasn't walking. He strolled forward effortlessly, floating on air, flowing with musicality and masculinity. My mouth was open to speak but I stood daftly as he approached. Erik stopped a few feet away and just looked back at me, like he didn't know what to say either, but that was absurd. Erik always knew how to conduct himself and I knew nothing of proper etiquette. So I continued to stare at him like a timid schoolgirl until he finally got tired of waiting for me to speak.

"Would you care for some tea?" he asked perfectly and politely.

"Yes thank you," I breathed out and he nodded and turned to the kitchen. I hadn't really noticed the kitchen because it was tucked neatly in an odd opening sort of around the corner from my bedroom but there it was; a table and two chairs, a brick oven and wash basin and a cold box with cupboards covering the upper walls. The sight of those two chairs made my eyes widen. A person who lived alone would not have two chairs.

I followed him into the kitchen like a lost puppy, trailing after him self-consciously, as my mind flung question after question at him silently. I wanted to just blurt out everything but felt too insecure to ask. Instead my eyes fastened on him as he prepared the water. He was very slim and tall, and his clothing always fit him impeccably. I had no doubt that they'd been made to his specifications. My eyes wandered down his back in the fitted vest to his long legs, every inch covered by expensive trousers and back up to where light and dark grey met. I blushed and looked away ashamed that I'd let my eyes linger on his backside.

I said a quick prayer for my wayward eyes and then darted them around the main living area trying to see if I'd missed another partially concealed room.

---

Erik

---

I could feel her watching me. Always watching now that she knew I could snap. I pressed my lips together as I scowled at the tea leaves. She was quite timid the more time we spent together and I knew it was because I'd kissed her. She was trying to forgive me but how could a sweet innocent girl forget such an attack? I wanted to break something but tried to calm myself as I took out the china.

Listening to her speak for an extended period had been delightful, her sweet clear voice weaving the words through my mind. She did not need any help with her diction but I might selfishly suggest she needs to practice just to sit and listen again. I turned to find Christine on the other side of the table. She was looking at the wall where my hidden door to the laboratory resided but she turned to me and smiled a little, as if eager for my attention. I glanced quickly towards my hidden door wondering why she would be looking there so intently and saw that I hadn't quite closed the stone door. It was cracked just enough to see the break in the stone.

Her hand rose to point and her mouth opened to speak but I cut her off rudely, "Your reading skills are quite good but you still require some practice." I quickly crossed the small space to push the door the rest of the way shut, knowing she would never find the seam in the wall, or the mechanism to open it. Why was I so secretive of my lab? There wasn't anything grand in there. Maybe that was the problem. It was just a mess of my ideas and experiments, childish things to pass the time.

"After tea, we can practice your singing," I heard the command in my tone and pressed my lips together as I arranged the cups and saucers. Is it possible for you to be nice for two whole minutes? "If you feel so inclined," I added trying to soften my tone. I did want her to like me and not be frightened.

"I would love to sing," she sounded happy and I glanced quickly over my shoulder to see the smile I'd heard in her voice. It was like a breath of innocence on her face. I turned away and closed my eyes.

You are a twit! You want to spirit her away and bathe in her light, scared that someone will ruin her innocence, and now that you have her here, to keep her safe, and you act like an ass! Not only that, but you besmirch her innocence by kissing her!

I heard the movement of her skirt and opened my eyes quickly.

"Do you need help, Erik? I feel sort of useless," she stood beside me propping her intertwined hands on the counter. Be a gentleman! How many chances does one fool get?

"You are my guest here. You do not need to help." There, nice and civilized.

"But I like to help," she said eagerly and sweetly, so sweetly that I could practically roll it on my tongue. This is what I'd wanted, to have her around me, enjoying all her natural beauty and effervescent attitude, without having to worry about her safety all the time. Why was I not enjoying it?

She turned towards me, lacing her fingers around her braid, "I could cook for you?"

Nice. Nice. Nice.

"I am sure that you could but I do not wish for my guest to earn her keep," not wanting to keep arguing about this I changed the subject. "Is your room satisfactory?" I really had no clue what to purchase and had mimicked what the girls had in their rooms in the dormitory, except of better quality. The bathroom addition had been a must seeing as she couldn't very well use mine, I borrowed the marble from the house I was working on. I could just replace it later. The job of supplying water to it had been an interesting one but manageable. For her clothing, I had mostly just taken my tailor's word for what a lady would like, but perhaps she did not like anything because she came out in her poor excuse for a dress.

"It is a very lovely room," her voice halted strangely but I was too busy pouring the water into the teapot to check her face. "I like the rug with the strange pattern on it."

"That one is from Persia. They make wonderfully intricate carpets." I lapsed into silence feeling a little awkward. She opened her mouth a few times to say something but nothing came out and I allowed her a few moments as I brought the cups, saucers, spoons, sugar and tea to the table. Just as I was slicing my lemon she found her voice.

"Whose clothing is in the closet?" she was timid and shy, like she felt she was being rude but just had to know. I was shocked into dumbness. She didn't know it was for her? Did she think I had a wife? A daughter? A woman? Did she think they were mine? I was so bewildered that I didn't answer her fast enough and she blundered on as she often did.

"I'm so sorry for prying, Erik. Please forgive me. I know better then to let my tongue flap with silly questions. It doesn't matter whose room it is or was or…" she covered her mouth with one hand as if it was the only way to stop the flow of words.

The tea was ready so I ignored her for the moment to get my thoughts in order. My heart was beating hard in my chest because if I told her the clothes and room were for only her, she would be frightened. Why would I buy her all those things if not to woo her? What did I truly want from her? Hadn't I taken enough already?

I pulled out one of my brand new kitchen chairs for her and gestured to indicate sitting. Christine came over with pink cheeks and a bowed head. I sat opposite her and poured us both a cup of tea. I squeezed the lemon into mine and took a small sip for fortification.

"The room is yours alone, along with everything in it." I was embarrassed I decorated my empty room for her. It had seemed cheap to leave the closet and dresser bare when she had no clothing and no one to buy any for her. So you bought her a fortune in expensive clothing too?

Her hands were cupped around the tea cup and she frowned down at the tea. Frown was too strong a word though because I don't think she had a single bone in her body capable of the anger required to frown properly. She looked confused, perplexed and then looked up. Her strange shining eyes pinned me in their gaze as she chewed on my words.

"Did you buy all those clothes for me?" her voice almost squeaked at the end. I could feel the flush of heat in my neck and was one hundred times more embarrassed for being embarrassed and heat rose steadily up into my face. My cheek beneath the mask throbbed dully and I fought the urge to press my hand over it to make sure the mask was still there. I just felt so exposed.

"Yes," my voice dominated the silence around us but Christine didn't seem to notice my bad behavior.

"I never even thanked you properly for the cloak and now you've bought me more clothing than I've ever owned in my entire life!" she was flabbergasted and I thought maybe she hadn't noticed my extreme embarrassment, as she continued to rant. "Thank you isn't even enough anymore! I don't even know what to say. How can I accept it all? I can't accept it all! I have nothing to give you in return!" she sounded distraught and I realized she was upset she had nothing to give to me? A present? Do I get a present?

"Please accept them, Christine. You have already given me your voice and your friendship, I want for nothing more." I really didn't want her to think any nefarious thoughts about my intentions, especially since I'd overstepped our strange relationship last night.

She stared down into her tea as if it could tell her what to do and then she looked up at me with a tiny smile. Not for the first time I wondered if she actually saw me when she looked at me. Otherwise how could she smile like that, all sweetness and tenderness, when she could clearly see the mask and now knew what lay beneath it.

"Thank you, Erik. You are overly generous with your gifts to me."

"Money is of no importance," I waved my hand, glad that this topic was done and glad she wasn't suspicious of me or my motives. But then, Christine was suspicious of nothing and that is precisely why and how she ended up in my care. We sat silently drinking our tea for a few minutes and Christine's eyes sort of glazed like she was off in another world, thinking pretty thoughts.

"I still can't believe it's all for me," she said quietly after some thoughtful time. "How did you know my sizes?"

"I have a trained eye."

"You often eye-size women's clothing?" her question was colored with laughter and I felt the urge to join in her amusement bubble up within me. It was amusing but panic squashed the emotion back down.

"My eye is trained from architecture and masonry." I tried to keep my voice even but ended up sort of scowling. "I often measure distances without aid."

"Masonry?" she repeated and then pushed her empty cup aside and propped her chin on a closed fist. "What do you build?"

Her interest in me made my scowl fade to blankness as I pondered how to answer her. Surely I could tell her about my business and the houses I built. There would be no harm in that. So I did. We sat for almost an hour as I explained how I'd built my very first house alone, only at night, in a quaint corner of Paris. I fully assumed I could live above ground but the neighbors got curious of the new home being mysteriously erected in their neighborhood and I realized it was foolish of me to think I could co-exist with others without their curiosity getting the better of them. I never actually met any of them, being careful to stay far from their sight but the way they would gather sometimes outside the house, trading stories about who I might be began to wear on my nerves. They would never leave me alone, which is all I'd ever wanted out of life, all I ever thought I deserved.

At its completion, because I could never leave it unfinished, I abandoned the house and searched for somewhere less conspicuous and stumbled upon the half built Opera Garnier rising from the dirt. The wonderful idea to live below this opulent house of music sprang into my mind and as the stonemasons toiled above to complete their work, I secretly built my home beyond the lake below. I, of course, have added many necessary changes to the opera, not only in the years it took them to complete it while I already lived below but also in the last few years when our popularity has grown due to my genius interjections and I needed better ways of getting to places, but I did not go into all that with Christine.

I told her of the interest my abandoned house received and how another plan hatched like an egg in my mind. My fortune was dwindling rapidly and I needed to find some form of income rather quickly. I realized I could build for a profit instead of just for my own pleasure as long as I was willing to speak to a few people and so the business began. Finding a trust worthy head mason to run the daytime operations had been the most tedious of the start-up jobs. Usually my mask caused problems but Bernard, desperate Bernard, had been perfect for the job. He was an accomplished stonemason with a pretty little wife, pregnant with their fourth child, all of them under five years old. He had been half mindless in his interview, the despair easy to read in his eyes. He was so blinded by his need of money to support his growing family that I don't think he even noticed the mask until perhaps our third encounter. But he was good at his job and interpreted my drawings to the letter and so I began to take work. I had a crew that worked in the day and I completed the finishing work at night. Bernard would contact me about a job and I would decide to take it or not. All in all, a sound set up seeing as I never had to meet with a client and the mystery of 'Erik' brought no limit of new work to my door.

The clock struck twelve and Christine jumped in her seat, her eyes focusing sharply as if she'd been listening in a daze. I realized I had plenty of said work to complete and rose from my seat. But I had promised her a lesson and could not renege on that.

"Shall we proceed to the piano?" I gestured past her and her eyes flicked to my hand briefly before she nodded and proceeded as I'd directed.