Disclaimer: I hate finals. Really. And I'm sorry about my screen name,
it's a private joke; if you don't get it, just try to ignore the fact that
I call myself Warm Fuzzy and concentrate on the goodness of the story
instead. *Mmm..... Phantomy goodness..*
Author's note: Oh, and I love all you people for writing reviews. Please, let me know if there are any typos in these chapters, because it's one thing I can't stand. So here's the next chapter, under pain of Lasso, apparently.
~Ch 6~
"What do you believe you are doing here, mademoiselle?" came the voice. Its soft velvet wrapped its way around Diana's brain like the slender fingers around her neck. Her mouth dropped open slightly at the beauty of it, but the hand that tightened warningly brought her back to the present.
It also brought the silver tea set on the man's head. Diana tossed it up in the air, grabbing the man's hand as it relaxed at her neck in surprise, pushed her rear back into his waist, and threw him over her shoulder using her hip as the fulcrum. His head and back, falling over hers, caught most of the tea set, the large silver pitcher making a hollow clanging sound as it struck his head. He landed on a heap upon the floor, not surprisingly, unconscious.
She rolled her eyes and went to go examine the angelo. His voice had caught her off guard; before when he spoke, it had been harsh with surprise and weariness. Now it was the seductive purr of one who thought he was in control. He had been wrong, of course, but what a voice! For the first time she entertained the thought that he could make a lot of money traveling with her clan. As she heaved him up upon the bed again, she shook her head. From what she had heard of his nightmares, he had a deep abiding fear and hate of her people---not without good reason, of course, but still unlikely to be changed. And here she was trapped inside a building with him, she thought to herself wryly.
Once again, she wasn't very kind when waking him up. She soaked up most of the spilled water in a rag and wrung it out on to his face. The water brought him back sputtering and coughing, and this time he found himself facing a sharpened knife from his own kitchen.
"That was not very polite, m'seiur," Diana said, eyeing him carefully. "I was the only thing keeping you alive just yesterday."
"What's keeping me alive right now?" he asked slowly, suspiciously.
Diana blinked, frowning a little. "Right now? Ah," she said, furrowing her brow in thought. "Right now. I don't know. Good point." His eyes widened at that remark, and she tilted her head. There was a silence. Then she shrugged, and threw the knife so that it was sent thudding, point- down, in the bedside table. On the other side of the massive bed. At least four feet away. "I think it's how nice your voice was," she said, in the tones of one just discovering something. "That and the fact that you did push me out of the way when I saw the explosives."
The last sentence drew his dark amber eyes from the still-vibrating knife back to Diana. He shot a glance out the door behind her. "What happened? How are we sill alive?"
"The dynamite only took out one section of the wall," Diana said. "The section with the door. It's now a pile of absolute rubble, along with our only exit, from what you said earlier. You're lucky I brought in those boxes outside before the wall fell---otherwise we would have died of starvation in here. You especially. How long has it been since you've eaten?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. Weeks, perhaps. At least Nadir will be pleased to find that he has saved my life once again. His deus ex machina worked."
"You have your own personal deus ex machina?" Diana asked, lifting a brow. "How fortunate."
"He is a most inconvenient one," the angelo replied dryly. "I take it he didn't send you here?"
"Hardly." Now that they were in a conversation, Diana bent to pick up the plates and meal. "Carlotta did, in a way. I saw him leaving, and since I was hired to investigate the 'death' and 'disappearance' of a certain Opera Ghost by the diva herself, I decided to trace his steps back. I ended up here."
"You, mademoiselle, were hired to investigate?" But even though his tone was still suspicious and distrusting, she caught the humorous glint when she had spoken of Carlotta in an ironic voice. Apparently he thought as little of the woman's "talents" as she did.
"I have certain... skills that would make myself useful in that category," Diana replied, taking no offence. Really, it was almost better when people underestimated her. She had proven her skills to herself and her clan, and that was good enough for her.
His eyes flickered back to the knife. "I believe you do, mademoiselle." The golden orbs slid to her as she sat next to his bed, the bowl of recovered porridge in her lap. "I do not eat with other people," he added, shifting uncomfortably. "It is hard to eat with a mask on."
"Then I guess it's a good thing you don't have one," she said, unperturbed. "What's your name?"
The offhand question caught him unawares as the first sentence reached his brain. "E-Erik," he said, and then caught himself. A shaking hand rose up to his face. He tilted his head away from her. "Why are you not afraid?" he asked, bitterness rising up in his voice. "How can you stand to look at me?"
"I've seen it before," she added, reminding him. "Besides, it's not that bad."
A wash of anger rose up in him. Rage clouded his vision. "Not that bad??!!"
Author's note: Oh, and I love all you people for writing reviews. Please, let me know if there are any typos in these chapters, because it's one thing I can't stand. So here's the next chapter, under pain of Lasso, apparently.
~Ch 6~
"What do you believe you are doing here, mademoiselle?" came the voice. Its soft velvet wrapped its way around Diana's brain like the slender fingers around her neck. Her mouth dropped open slightly at the beauty of it, but the hand that tightened warningly brought her back to the present.
It also brought the silver tea set on the man's head. Diana tossed it up in the air, grabbing the man's hand as it relaxed at her neck in surprise, pushed her rear back into his waist, and threw him over her shoulder using her hip as the fulcrum. His head and back, falling over hers, caught most of the tea set, the large silver pitcher making a hollow clanging sound as it struck his head. He landed on a heap upon the floor, not surprisingly, unconscious.
She rolled her eyes and went to go examine the angelo. His voice had caught her off guard; before when he spoke, it had been harsh with surprise and weariness. Now it was the seductive purr of one who thought he was in control. He had been wrong, of course, but what a voice! For the first time she entertained the thought that he could make a lot of money traveling with her clan. As she heaved him up upon the bed again, she shook her head. From what she had heard of his nightmares, he had a deep abiding fear and hate of her people---not without good reason, of course, but still unlikely to be changed. And here she was trapped inside a building with him, she thought to herself wryly.
Once again, she wasn't very kind when waking him up. She soaked up most of the spilled water in a rag and wrung it out on to his face. The water brought him back sputtering and coughing, and this time he found himself facing a sharpened knife from his own kitchen.
"That was not very polite, m'seiur," Diana said, eyeing him carefully. "I was the only thing keeping you alive just yesterday."
"What's keeping me alive right now?" he asked slowly, suspiciously.
Diana blinked, frowning a little. "Right now? Ah," she said, furrowing her brow in thought. "Right now. I don't know. Good point." His eyes widened at that remark, and she tilted her head. There was a silence. Then she shrugged, and threw the knife so that it was sent thudding, point- down, in the bedside table. On the other side of the massive bed. At least four feet away. "I think it's how nice your voice was," she said, in the tones of one just discovering something. "That and the fact that you did push me out of the way when I saw the explosives."
The last sentence drew his dark amber eyes from the still-vibrating knife back to Diana. He shot a glance out the door behind her. "What happened? How are we sill alive?"
"The dynamite only took out one section of the wall," Diana said. "The section with the door. It's now a pile of absolute rubble, along with our only exit, from what you said earlier. You're lucky I brought in those boxes outside before the wall fell---otherwise we would have died of starvation in here. You especially. How long has it been since you've eaten?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. Weeks, perhaps. At least Nadir will be pleased to find that he has saved my life once again. His deus ex machina worked."
"You have your own personal deus ex machina?" Diana asked, lifting a brow. "How fortunate."
"He is a most inconvenient one," the angelo replied dryly. "I take it he didn't send you here?"
"Hardly." Now that they were in a conversation, Diana bent to pick up the plates and meal. "Carlotta did, in a way. I saw him leaving, and since I was hired to investigate the 'death' and 'disappearance' of a certain Opera Ghost by the diva herself, I decided to trace his steps back. I ended up here."
"You, mademoiselle, were hired to investigate?" But even though his tone was still suspicious and distrusting, she caught the humorous glint when she had spoken of Carlotta in an ironic voice. Apparently he thought as little of the woman's "talents" as she did.
"I have certain... skills that would make myself useful in that category," Diana replied, taking no offence. Really, it was almost better when people underestimated her. She had proven her skills to herself and her clan, and that was good enough for her.
His eyes flickered back to the knife. "I believe you do, mademoiselle." The golden orbs slid to her as she sat next to his bed, the bowl of recovered porridge in her lap. "I do not eat with other people," he added, shifting uncomfortably. "It is hard to eat with a mask on."
"Then I guess it's a good thing you don't have one," she said, unperturbed. "What's your name?"
The offhand question caught him unawares as the first sentence reached his brain. "E-Erik," he said, and then caught himself. A shaking hand rose up to his face. He tilted his head away from her. "Why are you not afraid?" he asked, bitterness rising up in his voice. "How can you stand to look at me?"
"I've seen it before," she added, reminding him. "Besides, it's not that bad."
A wash of anger rose up in him. Rage clouded his vision. "Not that bad??!!"