CHAPTER FOUR: WILL YOU COURT ME?
"I never realised." Raoul lied back on his chair. "Realised what dummy?" Meg asked. The young girl brushed away a strand of hair. "I don't know why you're so depressed." She knelt closer to him, practically breathing on him. "Gosh, I would love to use my virginity to you fop. If it wasn't for Christine." Meg backed away from Raoul. "A pity fop.a true pity." She walked out, and Raoul sighed. "What in the world does fop mean? If only I could find a theseousarous." He was waiting for Christine in her dressing room, when she appeared in the mirror, Erik behind her. "First of all fop, its thesaurus, and secondly, I believe you are looking for a dictionary." Erik's sarcastic tone angered Raoul, but he would not show it. "Thank you my dear, your visit was very much needed. I shall be watching you at the next rehearsal." With that, Erik swept out of the dressing room and back down to the labyrinth. Raoul rubbed his hands together and thought to himself 'we'll see who you love Christine.'
"Merci girls. Such an improvement. I am very proud. Except for you." Madame Giry stood on the stage, ending her dance rehearsal. She had picked out one of the dancers, not because she was upset, but because she simply hadn't shouted at anyone lately. "Yes you! You were crap! Come here girl." The young dancer stumbled over to her. "Madame, please what was I doing wrong?" Giry bit he lip. She hadn't thought of that. "You . . . had a lazy pair of eyes. Yes that's right. Stupid, ugly girl! You don't deserve to be in this ballet!" The young girl ran off stage in tears. She ran down the corridor where the dressing rooms were.
Raoul had been sweet taking Christine for a good ten minutes. But all she did was tell him to back off and could I have some water. Finally Raoul decided to go for it. "Christine Daaé, will you-will you-" Christine grew impatient. "Will I what?!" Raoul blinked, and gulped. "Will you court me?" Christine stared at him in shock, as did the ballet dancer outside the dressing room. "Will you WHAT me?" Raoul smiled weakly. "Will you court me?" Christine stared at him open mouthed. "First of all, pleeease just call it sex! And hell no!" Raoul drew back quickly. "N-no?" "You disgusting little freak! Get out, get out now!" She slapped him hard across the mouth, and ushered him out of her dressing room.
During the time she had been watching, the ballet dancer had called a few of the girls over, who in turn had got some of their friends, and the same with them, and them, and pretty soon, the majority of the Opera House staff were stood outside the room, looking in through the windows, which Raoul foolish forgot to pull the blinds over. As Raoul was ushered out, he was met in horror to a sea of laughter from Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, the Giry's, Piangi, Reyer, Buquet, and the chorus of ballet girls! Cries of 'loser' 'little pete,' and especially 'fop' were yelled at him. Raoul could swear he could even here Erik whisper in his ear, "narcotic fool." Raoul ran through the crowd, escaping their jeers of hate. Perhaps it was time for Plan B . . .
"I never realised." Raoul lied back on his chair. "Realised what dummy?" Meg asked. The young girl brushed away a strand of hair. "I don't know why you're so depressed." She knelt closer to him, practically breathing on him. "Gosh, I would love to use my virginity to you fop. If it wasn't for Christine." Meg backed away from Raoul. "A pity fop.a true pity." She walked out, and Raoul sighed. "What in the world does fop mean? If only I could find a theseousarous." He was waiting for Christine in her dressing room, when she appeared in the mirror, Erik behind her. "First of all fop, its thesaurus, and secondly, I believe you are looking for a dictionary." Erik's sarcastic tone angered Raoul, but he would not show it. "Thank you my dear, your visit was very much needed. I shall be watching you at the next rehearsal." With that, Erik swept out of the dressing room and back down to the labyrinth. Raoul rubbed his hands together and thought to himself 'we'll see who you love Christine.'
"Merci girls. Such an improvement. I am very proud. Except for you." Madame Giry stood on the stage, ending her dance rehearsal. She had picked out one of the dancers, not because she was upset, but because she simply hadn't shouted at anyone lately. "Yes you! You were crap! Come here girl." The young dancer stumbled over to her. "Madame, please what was I doing wrong?" Giry bit he lip. She hadn't thought of that. "You . . . had a lazy pair of eyes. Yes that's right. Stupid, ugly girl! You don't deserve to be in this ballet!" The young girl ran off stage in tears. She ran down the corridor where the dressing rooms were.
Raoul had been sweet taking Christine for a good ten minutes. But all she did was tell him to back off and could I have some water. Finally Raoul decided to go for it. "Christine Daaé, will you-will you-" Christine grew impatient. "Will I what?!" Raoul blinked, and gulped. "Will you court me?" Christine stared at him in shock, as did the ballet dancer outside the dressing room. "Will you WHAT me?" Raoul smiled weakly. "Will you court me?" Christine stared at him open mouthed. "First of all, pleeease just call it sex! And hell no!" Raoul drew back quickly. "N-no?" "You disgusting little freak! Get out, get out now!" She slapped him hard across the mouth, and ushered him out of her dressing room.
During the time she had been watching, the ballet dancer had called a few of the girls over, who in turn had got some of their friends, and the same with them, and them, and pretty soon, the majority of the Opera House staff were stood outside the room, looking in through the windows, which Raoul foolish forgot to pull the blinds over. As Raoul was ushered out, he was met in horror to a sea of laughter from Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, the Giry's, Piangi, Reyer, Buquet, and the chorus of ballet girls! Cries of 'loser' 'little pete,' and especially 'fop' were yelled at him. Raoul could swear he could even here Erik whisper in his ear, "narcotic fool." Raoul ran through the crowd, escaping their jeers of hate. Perhaps it was time for Plan B . . .