It is Christmas Time.

The big holiday is a mere fortnight away, and for tonight's tea Madame Giry has procured a number of themed sweets, including spiced wine. Knowing that they will be busy with the upcoming shows, they have decided to hold their celebrations tonight.

Giry has some envelopes that arrived for them recently. She sits in her chair and holds them out to each of them, Christine easily reaching across from the couch and eagerly plucking hers out of Giry's hand. Erik, however, realizing that Giry is not in fact about to get up to give him his, is forced to rise from his chair in the far corner to receive it.

Once he does have it, he pauses before deciding to sit on the couch out of mere convenience. He is as far away as possible from Christine, but her heart skips a beat in joy at this development. She tears her letter open and scans over it quickly at first, then reads it again more slowly - it's from Meg, and several pages long, detailing the current gossip of those around her and situations she found amusing. Christine is certain she'll be writing a reply to her old friend that's just as long in the very near future.

She glances over at Erik, wondering who on earth would have sent him a letter. She holds Meg's letter up in front of her face, pretending to still be reading, but slyly looks over at the discarded envelope he's left on the couch cushion. It's addressed to Madame Giry, and the name above the return address is list as Nadir Khan, a name which sounds slightly familiar but she can't be certain. Of course this Nadir person could not have addressed the envelope to Erik, she thinks to herself. She uses the pretense of going over to place her letter on the desk to walk behind the couch and steal a look at the contents of Nadir's letter.

Erik can tell that Christine is hoping to steal a glance at what his friend has written. The poor girl is being terribly obvious, he thinks to himself - no one requires that amount of time to walk behind a couch. He presses the papers to his chest, hiding the words from her prying eyes, and twists slightly to look back at her. His blank face and his unblinking stare make Christine bite her lip in embarrassment at being caught. She puts her letter on the desk and stalks back to the couch, purposely avoiding Erik's eyes as she sits down again and crosses her legs. He turns to face her for a moment before slowly extending his arm and allowing her a look at the letter.

Her eyes light up in expectation as she leans across to see...

And he chuckles at her huff of confusion and disappointment- she can't read the strange print of flowing script in a foreign tongue.

She watches him with wonder as he goes back to reading it, still curious about who sent it and what it says.

Madame Giry has been absorbed in her own letter from Meg, and dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief. She misses her daughter, but is pleased with the woman she's grown into.

They eat their snacks and treats and Christine and Giry talk about the various topics in her letters to them. Giry asks Erik how Nadir is doing, and Christine turns to listen eagerly. He keeps the subject brief, however, by saying that he was doing well and sent his regards to Giry.

How disappointing, Christine thought. She would have liked to hear more about this man who thought enough of Erik to send him a letter at Christmas time, but to actually ask seemed to verge on prying.

The spiced wine is delicious, and they all have more than one glass. Christine drinks hers a little too fast, the sweetness of it belying its strength. Her head feels as thought it's slightly spinning, so she eats another slice of cake in the hopes that it eases soon. As long as she does not stand she should be fine, she thinks.

Luckily, no one is in a hurry to go anywhere as they have found a topic all three of them are well versed in and revel in discussing - gossip about various Opera employees. Madame Giry is giving an impression of one of the new stage hands that's frighteningly good, and Erik produces a sound that may or may not actually qualify as a giggle and Christine is laughing until her sides ache from both of these things. It all feels so awful to sit there and talk about the annoying habits of their coworkers, but as each story and complaint comes to light they each find they have noticed the exact same thing and they feel a little better about it all. It might be slightly wicked, but it is all terribly funny so they keep going. Even Erik, who still spends time lurking around the place, brings up comments about people and knows just what the two women are talking about.

Feeling just a little guilty but not regretful, they turn the conversation to other matters. Future plans for operas and plays that Erik gives casting notes on, the predictions for the coming weather, and various and sundry topics that bubble up from their minds. Topic moves on to topic, the mood is light and the stories flow easily in part due to the wine. Christine hopes that the drink will have loosened Erik's tongue - he's always so awfully guarded, and while he is certainly more talkative tonight, she does not manage to get much from him in the way of personal information except to find that he's terribly fond of both cashews and strawberries. She has, however, used many moments during the night to scoot ever so slightly closer to him, and by now she's managed to cover most of the distance between them - she sits a mere dozen inches away from him. She's knows that there is no way he has not noticed, yet still he has not made to move away from her all night or mentioned the matter, which makes her inexplicably happy.

Eventually the conversation reaches a sleepy lull, and Madame Giry looks at the clock and winces. The hour is much later than they realized. She sighs as she stands, stretching her back.

"This has been so wonderful tonight, my dears, but I must be taking my leave now if I hope to get any sleep in before work."

She hugs Christine, who's feeling more stable on her feet by now (despite a few extra sips of spiced wine after her first two glasses) and even pats an affectionate hand on Erik's shoulder, a gesture he doesn't seem to mind as he smiles up at her. They say their goodnights and she exits the room, locking the door behind her with only minor difficulty.

They are alone together.

She looks at him where he sits across from her, so much closer than he's ever sat here in this room. He's staring down at his wine glass in his hands, apparently lost in thought. The firelight, still going strong, glints off of his mask.

The evening has been perfect, and she finally lets those words fall from her lips - not because she thinks the timing is right, not because she feels it's wise to do so, but simply because they are true and she can no longer contain them.

"Erik, I love you." her voice floats out softly.

He looks up at her, frozen where he sits, eyes wide.

And because she's finally said it, finally admitted it out loud, she feels emboldened to try something else, too.

She leans forward tentatively, closing the small gap between them, with the intent to kiss him.

She feels his hand on shoulder and for one glorious moment she thinks it's to pull her closer but then he's pushing her away from him, gently but firmly until she's leaning against the back of the couch once again.

When he's put some space between them he stands up.

"I think all that wine has gone to your head, you silly thing." his tone is teasing but his eyes are sad.

She bites her lip to hold back the tears. He doesn't believe her.

He's straightening his jacket as he heads towards the secret door.

"Don't worry about your lesson tomorrow - I want you to take the day off. You should have the entire holiday off, in fact. Perhaps we will begin again after the new year - but you're doing so well that you might not need my help anymore."

He's gone before she can say anything, but she wouldn't know what to say to that anyway.