Good Night

One moment of patience may ward off great disaster. One moment of impatience may ruin a whole life. - Chinese Proverb

Erik downed the glass of champagne with one gulp, wrinkling his nose slightly at the flavour. He had forgotten that he didn't particularly like the drink, but it was better than nothing, especially with the line of people that Alex no doubt had for him to meet.

With a slight sigh he picked up another glass and began to pick his way slowly through the crowd, offering polite nods and weak smiles to those that he passed. When he finally found Alex and Adrienne they were, as he had guessed, talking with a new acquaintance of some sort. For a moment he considered feigning illness in order to escape, but decided against it. He would stay, be polite, and live to see the next day.

"Here you are, Mademoiselle," he murmured, handing Adrienne the glass.

"Merci, Monsieur," she smiled, "and Alex and I would like you to meet Mister and Misses Brookes."

"A pleasure," Erik said, allowing the weak smile to briefly claim his lips.

It seemed like the thousandth time that eyes appraised him, scraping over his form and spending too much time observing the mask. Of course everyone there was too polite to ask questions, they would simply stare when they thought he wasn't looking. Or, in this case, when he was looking.

"Pleased to meet you as well," the woman said, dragging her eyes away from the mask for a moment.

Erik forced a tight smile and kissed her offered hand, before turning to shake the hand of her husband.

"So, Erik," the man said, "Alex tells me that you are an architect. How…nice."

Alex could have sworn that he heard Erik's teeth grind together at the man's tone. He could certainly see his jaw shift, and gave a nervous little laugh as he waited for Erik's response, which came in the form of a civil, "I enjoy it."

"Well, I suppose that is important," the man muttered, "after all, one much enjoy their work."

"Indeed," Erik growled.

It was amazing at how one conversation could erode his good mood, and Erik finally took to shifting his weight from foot to foot as they spoke. Alex was talking with them about their recent trip to Italy, and though the young man included him in the conversation, the other two ignored him rather well.

"Have you ever been to Italy?" the woman asked, "it is truly a beautiful country."

"I lived in Italy when I was younger," Erik replied.

"Oh, really?" she asked, as if she were amazed by that fact.

"Yes," he snapped, "and if you would not mind, I prefer it when people address me instead of the mask."

She seemed suddenly taken aback, and fakes a small, embarrassed laugh. Her husband, however, stopped her before apologising, "I don't think that I like your tone, Sir."

"That goes the same for you," Erik retorted, "the mask does not speak, I do."

The man took a step back, but still pulled himself up as if he were offended, "Well then."

Erik could see Alex bite his lip nervously and took a deep breath to try and calm his temper. When it didn't seem to work he bit out, "Excuse me," and walked away.

"Well, he seems to be quite haughty," the woman sniffed.

"Indeed, terribly rude," her husband agreed.

"Excuse me," Adrienne said haughtily, turning and following Erik through the crowd.

She found him leaning against the far wall, watching the dancers on the floor. With a small smile she came up to him, "Couldn't stand them?"

"Not for much longer," he muttered darkly, "I expect that they think me quite rude."

"Perhaps," she agreed, "but you managed to keep your temper in check."

"Just barely," he admitted, turning his eyes away to glare at the dance floor, "I cannot stand people like them."

Adrienne gave a small, sympathetic smile and reached up to cup his cheek gently, "Try not to come onto problems that upset you, just forget them for now."

Erik shifted uncomfortably and pulled away from her touch, "You did not have to follow me, Mademoiselle."

"I couldn't stand them either," she said, "I thought it was better to leave before I said something I would regret."

"Such as?" Erik asked.

"I couldn't very well say," she gasped, blushing slightly.

Erik gave a small smile, "I see."

"Would you care to dance, Monsieur?" she asked, "my fiancé will no doubt be talking with his friends for a while longer, and I do not wish to speak with them again."

Erik's brow creased for a moment, "I do not know."

"It's just a dance," she said, gently taking his hand, "I assure you that Alex will not mind."

Erik allowed her to lead him onto the dance floor and cautiously placed a hand on her wait while she grasped his other one. She laughed quietly at his uncertainty, but wouldn't let him leave either. It took a few minutes, but he finally seemed to settle into some sort of comfort zone and she had him dance until the song was finished.

"I will go find Alex now," she said, "thank you for the dance, Monsieur Erik."

He gave a small nod, "I think I will go and get a drink. I think that I have met enough new people for one night."

Erik found a relatively quiet spot and stood there, watching and criticizing the other guests. It was a habit that he had developed at the Opera Populaire, something he had used to occupy his time at the galas.

"Enjoying your evening, dear?" the countess asked.

"It is enthralling," Erik replied blandly.

"And how long have you been hiding here?"

"It is hardly hiding," he pointed out, "but an hour or so…"

"Well, it is almost over, people are already beginning to leave."

"That is the first good things I've heard all night."

"If you would like to go to bed now it would be fine," she said, "you've stayed for along enough, and I have no doubt Alex introduced you to all his friends?"

Erik gave a tired smile, "Indeed…"

"But if you could talk to my husband first, he wanted to see you," she said, "he is over at the drinks table right now."

Erik gave a small nod and made his way over to where several grey-haired men were standing. The count immediately turned to greet him, "Ah, there you are. Where have you been hiding?"

"No where," Erik replied, "you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, my friends here were curious about you," he said, motioning to the other men, "they wanted to know who the mysterious architect was."

"I am mysterious now?" Erik inquired.

"Oh yes," one of the others said, "certainly. No one here had seen you, and yet we've heard so much. But you designed the new estate? You seem a bit young for that."

"That seems to be the general misconception," Erik murmured, "now if you will all excuse me, I was about to head off. It has been a long night."

"Yes of course," the count said, "you look a bit pale, it's probably best you head off now. Good night, Erik."

Erik raised his eyebrow and then gave a small nod before leaving. He wondered if the count was a bit drunk, after all, the man was acting a bit too friendly towards him.

"Good night, dear!" the countess called as he passed her.

"Good night," he murmured, giving a small bow before he left the ballroom. Once out he took a deep breath and ran his hands though his hair before hurrying up to his room. That had certainly been enough excitement to last him for a life time.

A/N: Not a particularly entralling chapter, but I like how it turned out. Please leave me a review.