"I will come by Antoinette's house later tonight, at the back door,"
he finally grit out. "When I arrive, you will be ready to go immediately and you be dressed all in black, do you understand?"

Christine nodded seriously.

"And once we leave Antoinette's backyard, there will be not a single peep from you until I have dropped you off at Antoinette's again, are we clear?" he continued.

"Yes, Erik."

"If we are suddenly in danger of being caught, you're on your own," he said sullenly. "You said yourself that Philippe wouldn't mind finding you there, so don't expect me to put myself at risk of being caught on your account."

She pushed a stray piece of hair out of her face and frowned as she gave another nod. He didn't have to be so rude about it.

He hesitated before adding in a softer voice, "When you see me tonight, I'll be wearing a- well, I will look... different."

He quickly turned away as though to pretend he had said anything at all in regards to his appearance.

"I will see you tonight," he said brusquely.

Antoinette rolled her eyes at his brooding demeanor, motioning for Christine to come with her as she made her way to the door.

"See you soon, Erik," Antoinette called back to him as the door closed.

Once at the Girys' house, Christine explained the situation to Meg.

"Oh, how exciting!" Meg clapped her hands together. "Just think - your first time sneaking into an actual house, and it's practically approved by law enforcement!"

"Meg!" Christine was scandalized.

"Well, it's true, isn't it?"

"Almost, I guess," she conceded. "I wouldn't particularly say either one of them approve of my going along, though."

Meg helped her search through the closet and a trunk of clothes, looking for just the right outfit.

"So..." Meg began. "Does knowing that you won't get arrested take the fun out of it?"

Christine presses her lips into a thin line and leveled a glare at her friend.

"Just a little," she replied eventually. "But it's not like any of the other times, anyway - it's to look for clues to find Raoul."

She was quiet a moment, thinking of all the times she had found herself in places she was not particularly supposed to be - midnight trips to the zoo with Raoul, early morning practices with Meg in the ballet room far before the sun was up or the doors officially unlocked, the occasional sneaking into the costume rooms to try on costumes she would certainly never get to wear on stage - none of them had been necessarily right to do, but absolutely none of them had harmed anyone so she hadn't seen an issue with any of them. Yet in all of them, she had never snuck into someone's home before, a line she had never saw fit to cross, even if it was only Philippe's house, a place that was practically a second home to her.

She rolled her hair up into a bun, shoving pin after pin into it to keep it in place, and then adding a few more. The sweater she was wearing wasn't black, it was only navy blue, and she fretted over whether or not it would be up to Erik's standards, but it was the only dark colored clothing with long sleeves. The pants, also borrowed from Meg, had to be rolled up at the ankles, which she affixed with safety pins. She squirmed in them - it was such a different feeling than what she used to.

Meg leaned on the vanity table.

"Do you think you could steal me something from the Comte's house?"

"Meg!"

"Nothing big! Just something, you know? Just proof you were there," she gestured with her hand.

"I'm not stealing from the Comte just so you can have a token from my exploits!" Christine admonished, but the corners of her lips were quirking.

Meg stuck her tongue out at her.

"You're a terrible friend," but she was grinning too. "I would rob the Comte blind for you, you know."

Once she had finished dressing and the appointed hour drew near, Madame Giry escorted her outside.
Christine stood anxiously on the back porch, a single hanging lightbulb illuminating her and Madame, who stood next to her and waited. She peered out into the inky blackness, wondering how soon Erik would arrive. She shifted nervously from foot to foot as she caught glance of what seemed to be two points of light in the darkness, and frowned. Was it just a trick of the light? Some predator animal in the distance? Christine gave a small start when a shadow moved closer to her, but she tempered her reaction quickly, noting the Madame Giry didn't react at all.

Erik stood at the very edge of the lamplight, and he certainly looked... different. She realized he must have mentioned the change in the hopes of not startling her again - gone was his stark white mask, and in its place was a black one that covered every inch of his face except for where two shining yellow eyes peered out.

Those bright eyes held her in consideration for- she wasn't sure how long. She was too busy trying to focus on pressing down the unsettled nerves that were jumping around inside of her, to swallow the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat - to avoid staring directly at that terrible mask.

Erik had never seen her wear pants before. He supposed it only made sense that she would wear them tonight - the horseback ride and sneaking about would certainly go much smoother in pants than a dress or skirt like she normally wore. But still - he had never seen her in pants before. It was such an odd sight, such an unexpected one. He had never really thought about her legs, he supposed. Obviously she had legs, of course, but he had never had reason to imagine them... They were short, but she was short, so no surprise there. Her hips were wider than they had appeared before, and vaguely his mind registered that she must have always worn styles of skirts to disguise that, probably in some nonsense notion of hoping to appear thinner when there was nothing wrong in how she looked to begin with.

She cleared her throat and his eyes snapped up to her face, suddenly filled with guilt. He was only surprised to see her like that, that was all - it was like discovering that a favorite book had an extra chapter, or that a much-loved painting had more to it behind the frame - but he realized that to her he was simply a man gawking at her shapely legs, and that for all she knew he might have been having unsavory thoughts about them. For a brief moment he panicked that his gaze had made her uncomfortable, but there was no sign of such a feeling on her face - she only looked vaguely nervous.

"Are you ready?" his voice sounded slightly muffled coming from behind the molded mouth.

She gave a small nod, feeling oddly intimidated. In addition to the new mask, he seemed to wearing some sort of scarf that covered his neck and a hat. Every single part of him was covered in black, and it was no wonder that she hadn't noticed him until he was very close. He had been difficult to read before - but now it was impossible. Without those thin lips visible to give indication of a smirk or a frown, there was nothing left to discern any emotion from him, and she found that prospect unsettling. Still, she tried to push that thought from her mind as she attempted to focus on the task at hand.

He pulled slightly on the reins he was holding in a gloved hand, and a very large horse stuck its muzzle into the lamplight, it's face and neck somewhat visible but the rest of that glossy black coat causing it to blend in with the night air.

"This is Cesar," he murmured.

Christine stared dumbly. She'd never seen a horse so big, not up this close at least. But she supposed when it came down to it, she hadn't seen very many horses this close at all.

"Hold your hand out to him," Erik told her when he realized Christine had not only not ridden a horse before, but likely hadn't been around horses either. "Like this."

He demonstrated holding out a hand, fingers together and palm up. She copied his gesture, reaching up to the horse, who brought his face down and snuffled at her palm for a moment before trying to nip at her fingers. She just barely stifled a shriek as she jerked her hand back.

"Cesar," Erik admonished.

Cesar shook his head and Christine flinched slightly. Leave it to Erik to have the largest, most terrifying animal imaginable.

She clenched her fists. She wasn't going to let this- this beast stand in her way of finding Raoul. She gathered her courage and held out her hand again, this time quickly flipping it over when he leaned in to sniff it, placing it on his forehead and petting gently before he had a chance to nip again. He twitched his ears and let her do so.

Erik silently cursed his fickle horse for destroying the last chance of leaving Christine behind, but then quickly repented when he remembered that it was his own fault anyway for bringing it up at all. Besides, he could never stay mad at Cesar.

"Because you don't know how to ride, you'll have to sit in the front," he led Cesar to put his side to Christine. "If you sit behind me and you end up falling off, you'll end up pulling me with you, too."

He motioned for her to stand next to Cesar's side, and then helped Christine up to sit across the animal's back. She sucked in a breath at being so high up.

"Just hold on to his mane and try not to fall off," he sounded slightly annoyed as he hoisted himself up with ease, sitting just behind Christine. "I'll steer us where we need to go. And don't squeeze your feet into his sides, either."

Christine had never ridden a horse before, it was true, but she had imagined that even with two people riding a horse there would have been some room between the two riders. She quickly found she was wrong, and suddenly realized what, exactly, Erik's concern had been when he insisted that riding double was not an option.

She gripped her hands in Cesar's mane, knuckles turning white. How was she not supposed to squeeze her feet into the horse's sides? Without a saddle she found it extremely difficult to both hold on securely and not squeeze, which she assumed would goad to poor horse into going fast, and the very last thing she wanted to was go fast while being so far off the ground with only a few handfuls of hair to cling to in an attempt to not lose her balance.

"I expect to be gone around two hours, Antoinette. Watch for us back here around then."

"Do be careful, Christine," Antoinette said. "Stay safe."

"I will," she squeaked.

"What about me, Madame?" Erik asked. "Don't you want me to be safe as well? Are there no well wishes for me?"

Antoinette sighed wearily.

"Because if I tell you to 'be safe', I know you'll go do something dangerous just out of spite. But if you insist upon it... May your burglary be successful and may you live to complete numerous more offenses of breaking and entering," she waved a hand. "Now go."

Erik gripped the reins, his arms on either side of Christine. She was glad of the darkness hiding the color on her face. She briefly considered whether or not she should stay behind after all - not because she felt uncomfortable with him so close, but because perhaps he was uncomfortable with the situation. But before she had a chance to say anything about it, they were suddenly off. Erik set the pace of a quick walk, eager to hurry and arrive at their destination - and end the ride - but not wanting to overtax Cesar.

Though she could see very little in the dark, everything she could see looked so different from such a higher vantage point. She tried to distract herself with the seemingly new sights, tried to ignore the feeling of him so close to her, the way her back was very nearly touching his chest. If he were almost any other person, she imagined, she'd be able to feel the warmth radiating from him - but just as she'd noticed that night he'd carried her, he seemed to lack any sort body heat and not for the first time she wondered why that was. With a start she realized that she was doing exactly what she trying to avoid doing - thinking of Erik's body, and hastily tried to think of something - anything - else. Perhaps that water fountain just over there that she'd never been tall enough to see the top of before- and Christine made the fatal mistake of twisting to look at it.

Erik watched in horror as she turned to look at something, suddenly tipping with no way to right herself. For the briefest of seconds her shoulders stiffened as she realized she was about to fall - and then his arm swiftly wrapped around her waist and pulled her upright. Her heart was pounding in her ears - she had been certain she was on the verge of falling and being seriously injured or worse - but before her mind could fully comprehend the situation, Erik was holding the reins in one hand and had her held tightly to himself with the other arm, his hand on her hip to keep her steady. He lowered his head till the mouth of the mask was level with her ear.

"Are you alright?" he whispered uncertainly.

Had he been wearing his white mask instead of the black one, she would have been able to feel his breath against her neck, and just the thought of it caused a shiver to ripple through her entire body - a shiver he unfortunately most definitely felt due to how he was holding her. Remembering his earlier command to not speak until they were back at the Girys', she vigorously nodded her head in reply to his question.

Erik frowned. She said she was fine, but he didn't understand why she was shivering. Was she cold? He didn't think it was that cold out, but he had never been the best at judging temperatures accurately. He left his arm around her, both to keep her from losing her balance again and also in the hopes that if she was cold, she would be able to warm a little with his cape around her.

Christine bit her lip and resigned herself to the rest of the ride with Erik's arm around her. She was going to have the dreams again after this, she was certain of it. Not an entirely unpleasant concept, but an awkward one all the same.

After what seemed like ages to the both of them, they finally arrived at the Comte's home. Erik dismounted first, helping Christine down after. She staggered just a little on her first few steps, unused to being down so low once again, and her balance unsettled after the long ride. She could have sworn she still felt the ghost of Erik's arm around her, and she brushed her hands over her clothing as though cleaning dust off of them.

Erik tied Cesar's reins in a loose knot around the lower branches of a tree in the side yard. The horse stood patiently and Christine wondered if perhaps this was not the first burglary he had been an accessory to.

With a small hand motion he signaled for her to follow him up to the front door. Once in front of the gaudy ornate entrance, Erik reached into his coat to pull out a small, thin box that contained his lock picking tools. He was entirely surprised, however, when Christine stepped up to the door and calmly pulled a pin out from her hair, stuck it in her mouth to bite it into shape, and then gracefully jammed the pin into the lock. She gave it a few well practiced rattles and the door sprung open. His hands squeezed the little box of tools. He hadn't even had a chance to open them.

He followed her inside as though in a daze. Christine had seemed such a good girl - where and why has she learned how to pick locks like that?

He carefully closed the door behind them and watched as she began to steal upstairs without hesitation. He followed her, quickly catching up.

Once upstairs she turned left and made her way to a door near the end of the hallway. She pushed the door open and Erik followed her.

Raoul's room, he realized after glancing around.

The walls were covered in maps marked with pins, and Erik stopped to look at these for a moment. Christine began looking here and there for anything that might be of use, taking down his favorite books from the shelves and flipping though the pages, knowing he often kept important papers between the pages. She got down on her knees and looked under the bed, pulling out the small boxes he kept under there, looking in them but finding nothing out of the ordinary.

Erik pulled open the drawer on his nightstand, finding nothing but a well-worn Bible and a rosary. He raised an eyebrow.

Christine carefully put the boxes back under the bed once more and went to look in his closet, searching the insides of his shoes where she knew he hid small items.

Erik examined the contents of the large writing table. A number of letters, which he scanned over but they all seemed to contain only normal correspondences, although from what he could tell the boy was spending quite a lot on the opera house's repairs. There were a few newspapers, and beneath those were blueprints. Erik pulled them out, intrigued. They were the blueprints for the Opera Populaire, he realized, and then he realized something else about them that made him roll them up and tuck them away in his jacket for further study.

He peered into the closet, Christine giving him an apologetic look from where she sat on the floor turning his shoes upside down. He left her to her strange task and began to study the items on the shelf. A seashell, a gold heart shaped locket, an iron horseshoe, a faded and bent deck of cards, and a few small photographs in frames. The first was of a group of young men in uniforms, sitting around a table in a small room playing cards - presumably the deck on the shelf was one of them. The second was of a younger Raoul and Philippe standing in a garden, standing next to them were two young girls and an older woman - Erik decided this was likely a family portrait. The third picture was of a teenaged Raoul at the beach with a young Christine, his arms around her as she laughed, a long scarf wrapped around the both of them. Erik reached a hand out and almost touched the little image. Christine looked so young there, so happy. Her hair was being blown by the wind, wavy curls going every which way, the surf gently surging around their ankles. He felt a lump in his throat. Raoul knew her in ways he never could. In an odd fit of jealousy he very nearly took the little picture but instead he turned away from it and scolded himself for being ridiculous.

True to her word, Christine showed him every secret hiding place she knew of. A hidden room behind a bookcase that would have taken him ages to find, but it was disappointingly absent of any good clues or information.

Erik did, however, notice the wooden box on the table near the bottle of brandy. He hadn't forgotten the papers the Comte had looked at so strangely before stowing then away in the box the last time Erik had questioned him. He took the opportunity to open the box and found a letter inside. He picked it up and scanned it over - it was an invitation.

Christine came up beside him and stood on her tiptoes, trying to see what it was. He lowered it down for her to see.

An invitation to a secret masquerade party.

Christine raised an eyebrow at it before glancing up at Erik. That eerie black mask gave away nothing. He swiftly pulled a pencil and notebook from his jacket, scrawling down the details of the invitation before returning it to its box.

While he was busy writing, Christine had wandered away. In the next room she paused by the flower arrangement on the table, remembering Meg's words to her earlier. Feeling only a little guilty, she reached out and snapped a bloom off of a stem near the back where it hopefully wouldn't be noticed and quickly shoved it into her pocket. It was then that she saw a heavy vase up on a pedestal and recalled that one time Philippe had hid a very important letter that was addressed to Raoul inside. She lifted it carefully and tipped it over, peeking inside. Nothing. She sighed in disappointment, and started to place it back on the pedestal.

She didn't hear when Erik came into the room, or when he approached her. She didn't notice him at all as he looked over her shoulder into the vase. She did notice, though, when the edge of his cape brushed up against her as he turned to walk away from her and the empty vase, but she certainly hadn't been expecting anything to touch her. She panicked, turning suddenly to see what or who was right next to her.

The vase slipped off the pedestal and smashed on the floor, the sound deafening after the endless silence that had preceded it.