"You smell like Buquet," Christine announced to Babette.
"Come on down! The party is just beginning!" A severely inebriated Babette called to Christine, who was only a meter away.
"Mama won't be happy."
"Mme. Giry said to stay in the dormitories! She even scheduled early morning practice!" Christine called to the swiftly descending Babette.
"Mme. Giry! Mme. Giry! Christine Daaé you are how many years old? You don't need to listen to Mme. Giry."
"Go! And tell me what its like. Besides, we already spied on the front ball. The back party should be much more exciting!" Meg encouraged.
"Come with me?" Christine implored.
" Mama will know. You would get in less trouble. Just go for an hour, you will be fine for rehearsal."
"But my teacher won't be happy. The Voice said-"
"How will 'the Voice' know? Go!"
Christine's emotions warred on her face for a minute. Finally a smile broke out.
"All right," Christine said as she changed and put on shoes.
"Only an hour Christine! Don't leave me alone with the children for too long. And be careful."
"I will!" Christine promised as she ran after Babette.
" 'Bout time, love! I have people to introduce you to," Babette said, swinging her arm over Christine's shoulder and swaying.
The hour passed almost faster than Christine could comprehend. There was wild dancing with the fly boys, laughter with the costumiers, and the male dancers were having a drinking contest. The major dame through the party was keeping Armand, or 'mini-Piangi' as the company dubbed him, from looking up the girl's skirts.
"Here poppet! Have a drink." Babette yelled over the din.
"What is it?" Christine shouted back.
"The Russians call it 'sour water,'" Christine accepted the drink and downed it. Almost immediately she came up spewing. "It burns!" Christine said as she struggled to breath.
"Of course it does! Carolus! Come 'ere." Babette called as she pushed through the crowd to the baritone.
"Here is a refill!" Buquet said as he came up and drunkenly hugged her.
"No, thank you monsieur," Christine declined.
"Drink it up!" Buquet crowed as he forced the drink down her throat, spilling it over her face.
"My eyes!" Christine shouted as the liquor spilled into them. She stumbled away from Buquet wiping her eyes. She stumbled around trying to get away so she could properly wipe them without being an obstacle for drunks. Thankfully, there was an unoccupied prop room near by. Tears poured down her face, in a vain attempt to lubricate her injured irises.
A soft opening and closing noise was made to her left.
"Hello?" Christine called, "Who is there?"
"Mademoiselle, are you hurt?" A soft male voice inquired to her right.
Christine spun to her right to attempt to face her companion. "A little, just my eyes and hurt, thank you."
"How did that happen?" This time the voice was on the opposite side of the room.
"Some liquor spilled into my eye at the party, you see and-"
"You attended the party?" The voice, suddenly harsh, asked. He seemed to be right behind her now.
"I-I," Christine stuttered.
"Never attended the Populaire's New Years ball alone!" The voice scolded, still behind her.
"I-I'm sorry," Christine apologized, not knowing what to say.
A sigh.
"Give me your hand, I will lead you to your dormitory," the voice said, kind again.
"Thank you, Monsieur,"
The man took her hand in his soft glove and led her away.
"Excuse me , Monsieur, but why aren't we going through the party?" Christine asked several moments later when the sounds of the party died away.
A harsh chuckle came from her helper. "And give them another chance to give you drink?"
"Babette is my friend!" Christine claimed.
"I would like to believe that a friend would not pour spirits on her friend's face."
"Babette didn't! Buquet did and it was an accident," Christine defended.
The man stopped, causing Christine to hit his back.
"Buquet did this?"
"Monsieur, please just take me to my room," Christine pleaded.
Once more, a sigh.
"You are at the end of the stairs. I am sure Mlle. Giry will assist you. Keep your eyes covered, I imagine the light might hurt them."
"The light hurt? Why?"
There was a pause before her helper answered. "The light is not the friend you believe it to be. Good night, Mlle. Daaé."
"Christine? Is that you?" called Meg.
"Yes, yes it is," Christine said as she felt her way up the stairs.
"I never learned his name. I can't believe I forgot to ask." Christine said the next morning.
"Maybe you will meet him today."
"I don't know, I don't think I have met him before."
"Oh well, I am going to get something to eat, are you coming?" Meg asked.
"You know I don't eat until noon."
"Oh yes your mysterious alone time at the chapel," Meg said shaking her hands in the air, though she knew all about Christine's voice.
"Don't make fun," Christine said as she left Meg to go down to the chapel.
Meg's laughter echoed the corridor.
Christine walked into the chapel.
"Good day, Christine. How are you?" The Voice asked, in its velvety tone.
This is the almost sequel to one of my other shorts, in which Christine and Meg spy on the New Years Ball. I wondered what it would be like for naive Christine to be at the back party. I would think The Phantom would be most displeased. The alcohol in the eyes is a bit of creative license but I would imagine hard liquor would hurt pretty bad and obscure the vision.
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