After concealing himself in the bushes in the park, hoping to catch Christine and her secret boyfriend unawares, he discovered the hedges weren't half as comfortable as they looked. In fact, they were full of nasty thorns and several very aggressive wasps. He stuck it out for about an hour, but when one of the wasps flew up his nose, it was the last straw. Sneezing wildly, he stumbled out of the bush and flagged down a cab.

"Once around the park," he mumbled, slumping down in the seat and peeking covertly over the edge of the window.

He rode around for another couple of hours, and was about ready to give up, go home, put some ointment on his wasp stings, and get some shut-eye. However, as he was leaning out the window to get the driver's attention, he saw Christine's face in the window of a passing carriage.

"Christine!" Raoul shouted. He pounded on the wall of the cab. "Driver, follow that carriage!"

"Jiyajbe'. Tlhingan Hol Dajatlh'a' ?" the apparently monolingual cabbie replied uncomprehendingly.

Raoul smacked himself in the forehead. He had learned several foreign languages in school, but had never thought he would need to know Klingon. "Okay, okay, then just stop here!"

"Nuq?" The cabbie scratched his forehead, perplexed.

"I'm not having a very good day, here." Out of options, Raoul jumped out the window and began to run after Christine's carriage. "Honeybear, wait up! Just talk to me! I can change! Is the hair? I'll cut it! I'll even give up my dreams of discovering Santa's workshop and get a desk job! Just please take me back!"

After about a quarter of a mile, the viscount tripped over an inconveniently placed rock, fell on his face, and skidded to a stop. Christine's mysterious carriage rolled right past him without so much as slowing down, and he banged his head against the cobblestones in defeat.

Covered in mud, scratches, and beestings, Raoul trudged home, crawled up the stairs, and fell into bed. The servants came in the next morning to wake him up, and were greeted with a battered, miserable, unconscious heap. They tried poking him with a broom and dumping ice water over his head, but he didn't wake up until one of the servants leaned down and whispered in his ear. "Hey, boss, there's a singing skeleton man outside your window."

The viscount was awake in a flash. "What? Where!"

"Relax, we just wanted to wake you up so we could give you this note."

Raoul read through the letter anxiously.

Dear Honeybear, it said.

Meet me at the masked ball at the Opera tomorrow. Wear a white domino costume and keep your face covered up unless you want a certain Angel of Music to come and rip it off.

--Love and kisses,

Christine

Raoul massaged his temples tiredly. "Dang, that is one fickle girl."

But he showed up at the masquerade ball, wearing a white mask, a white cape, white shoes, white socks, a white vest, a white coat, with white buttons, white gloves, a white hood, white belt, and white shoelaces. "Ugh, this had better be worth it. I feel like a dork. Not only does this sissy costume have lace all over it, but they're overplaying the symbolism here to death."

He was getting ready to duck out, go home, and come back in a Batman costume like all the other guys were wearing, when a mysterious figure appeared on the stairs. He was dressed in bright red from head to toe, with a death's head mask on his face, and a cape printed with the words, "Red Death coming through, kindly keep your paws off."

"The singing skeleton man!" Raoul smashed a glass case on the wall and pulled out yet another of those handy-dandy fire axes. "I'll teach him to steal my girlfriend and get me sent to a psychiatrist!" But before he could attack, a girl in a black domino costume grabbed him by the belt, dragged him into a nearby dressing room, shoved him into a closet, then jumped in after him and barred the door shut.

"Are you out of your pretty blond head?" the girl hissed.

"Christine? Is that you?" He felt around in the dark for Christine or whoever it was.

"Ow! Yes, now please get your finger out of my eye!"

"Well, maybe if you hadn't stuffed me in a closet I'd be able to see what I was doing."

"What did you expect me to do, just watch the guy I love get torn into dog meat by the Red Death out there?"

Raoul's heart leapt. "You love me? Really?" Then he glared into the darkness. "Hey, now, just what makes you so sure I'd get torn into dog meat?"

"In answer to the second question, duh, he already pummeled you into a fine paste the other day with that skull-bazooka of his. And as for the first question, yep. Sure thing."

"Well, you've got a funny way of showing your love, running around with the singing skeleton man out there!" Raoul snapped.

"What! How dare you make such a valid point!" Christine stomped out of the closet indignantly. "You know, I was going to tell you a big juicy secret, but now you can forget it."

Raoul smacked himself in the forehead. "Nuts! That didn't go well. I'd better consult the book about this." He felt around in his pocket for A Thousand and One Pickup Lines for the Awkward Victorian Nobleman, but discovered that it was missing. Realizing that he must have dropped it near Christine's dressing room during the first little fire ax mishap, he marched down to the dressing room to look for it. He found the book lying on top of the pile of splinters that had once been the poor dressmaker's dummy, and pocketed it.

Raoul was about to head home and brush up on "Chapter Four; Apologies, Flattery, and Groveling", when he heard footsteps in the hall. He jumped into the closet, as that seemed to be a tradition around here.

Christine walked into the room and knocked on her mirror. "Erik, are you there? I'm ready."

"Sorry I'm late, baby," replied the disembodied voice from the graveyard. "One of those ballet girls thought I was a nobleman because of my spiffy new outfit and tried to handcuff herself to me. Or maybe it was just another one of those 'phangirls'. Never mind that now, though. Let's jam."

They began to sing together. Or rather, Erik began to sing, while Christine danced around in a freaky hypnotic trance. Meanwhile, Raoul had found a secret panel in the back of the closet and tumbled through the floor and into the managers' office. The place was still booby-trapped, and he landed in the middle of a snare. Dangling from the ceiling by one ankle, the dazed vicomte mumbled, "What just happened, here?"

It wasn't until the next day, after the managers had discovered him and cut him down, that he was able to track down Christine. He found her at home, adjusting her foster mom's meds.

"Look, Enjy!" Mamma Valerius called out as he walked through the door. "The Angel of Music brought Christine back."

Christine fidgeted nervously. "You know there's no such thing as the Angel of Music, Mom. Here, quick, have some more pills."

"She's right. The angel's actually just some ordinary wacko living in her mirror."

"Don't listen to him, Mom. He's obviously insane."

Mamma Valerius ignored her adopted daughter's protests. "If that adorable revolutionary Enjolras says you're in danger, I'm sure he knows what he's talking about."

Raoul coughed. "Ahem. Right."

An exasperated Christine poked Raoul in the chest. "Look here, buster, you've got no right to be getting up in my face like this. I'm an independent woman and I don't let any man kick me around like some little slave girl except my husband."

"Like the guy who gave you that wedding ring you're wearing?"

"Yes, exactly like--shut up! Shut up!"

At the sight of the wedding band on Christine's finger, Mamma Valerius perked up. She had been waiting for years to get Christine married and out of the house so that the girl wouldn't be able to control her daily intake of medication. Now that a potential husband had finally come along, she wasn't about to let anybody spoil it, even someone as dreamy as Enjolras. "If she wants to marry some weirdo who lives in her mirror, that's her business. Now, either sing me that delightful "Do You Hear the People Sing" song or get out of my house!"

Raoul shook Christine by the shoulders. "Honeybear, this is serious! This 'Erik' guy is stalking you! There are hotlines for this sort of thing if you want to get away from him."

"He's stalking me? Who listened at my door? Who chased my carriage down the street? Who wrote me five gazillion letters after I'd repeatedly told him to get lost?"

Raoul blushed guiltily. "I, uh, kinda hid in your closet last night, too."

She grabbed the Victorian Book of Pickup Lines from under his arm and whacked him over the head with it. "You idiot! Are you looking to get yourself killed?"

"Maybe. I've been in a rather melodramatic mood these past few days."

Christine wearily tossed the book back to him. "Honeybear, just do yourself a favor and mind your business, okay? I'll see you around."

Raoul bowed politely, left the house, and flipped through his book to "Chapter Seven; Getting Past Husbands, Fiancés, and Restraining Orders."

The next day the vicomte went to see Christine at the Opera. The book had told him that the key to overcoming accusations of stalking was to refrain from screaming, yelling, and threatening to kill your competition, so he decided to try discussing a different subject. "Yep, I'm finally going to live out my lifelong dream of going to the North Pole to start a new life among Santa's elves."

"I'm so happy for you, Raoul," Christine gushed with a smile. "Do you think you could send me back a pair of those funny little pointy shoes they wear? They've always looked so comfortable to me."

"Sure. You know, I'm really going to miss you, Christine."

"I'll miss you too, Raoul."

Before the words were even out of her mouth, Raoul had sunk to his knees and pulled a diamond ring out of his pocket. "Well, you wouldn't have to miss me if we got married! Pretty please? With sugar on top and nuts and cherries and chocolate chips and--"

"What part of 'no' do you not understand, Honeybear?"

"--and hot fudge and sprinkles and whipped cream and--"

"Well…I love you very much, and that does sound awfully yummy. Okay, I'll make you a deal. We can pretend to be engaged for the next month, until you leave for the Pole. We'll have some fun, and since it's only temporary, I should be able to convince Erik not to brutally slaughter you."

Raoul was about to protest that he didn't need a girl to protect him from the singing skeleton man, but remembered what the book had said about that sort of thing, and decided to consult it for some advice. In Appendix III, "Marriage Proposals and Related Topics", he found his answer:

Item Number 227. In the event that she just wants to be temporarily engaged until you leave for the North Pole--

Just play along with her little game for the time being. By the time you leave, if you play your cards right, she'll have forgotten all about the Phantom of the Opera and end up running away to Santa's Workshop with you.

"Wow," he mused, "this book knows everything. Okay, Christine, it's a deal."

"Yay!" She grabbed his hand. "Come on, let's go find some fun engaged people stuff to do."