Whew... Well, here, you'll see the relationship between Lenore, Ulrich, and Darren--trust me, there is conflict. Ulrich, of course, being from Germany, cooks the breakfast. Isn't he the sweetest...? Darren's a bit miffed about that, though... Oh, and a bit of trivia for you: The Colt Walker's that Lenore owns are quite powerful. The largest and most powerful blackpowder handgun ever made and only 1100 were ever made in 1847. The Colt Walker, at 450 ft-pounds of muzzle energy, was just a little more than half as powerful than the mighty .44 Magnum. So, you can imagine what kind of fire-power she's carrying... Later you'll find out how and why.

Phantom Of The Opera (c) Their respective owners and/or creators

Lenore, Darren, Ulrich, however (c) ...ahem...Me.

German Breakfast in Paris

Lenore shot up from her bed in cold sweat and a throbbing head. She rolled her eyes in the back of her head and sighed, grabbing a pillow and holding it tight against her chest and sighing into it. Her head shook in reassurance, muttering encouraging words that it was only a frightening dream. Lenore slowly got out from the bed and searched around for the cabinets to find a pocket watch. The room was dimly lit, but it was bright to her as she opened the watch and read: one o' clock in the afternoon. Lenore yawned widely and scratched her head, making her way to the door and slowly opening it, just enough for one eye to seek through, looking around. She closed the door and huffed to herself, seeing another door in her room that led to a bathroom. She quickly shuffled there to refresh herself and brush her teeth to finally wake up and walk downstairs to see Ulrich in the kitchen, Darren poking the ashen logs, and Erik lying on the couch.

Darren noticed her and waved slightly, "Hey, your awake rather early, Lore," he said rather quietly. He made a sudden gesture to Erik, and then he put a finger to his lips to note her to keep silent.

Lenore made a soft 'oh' in acknowledgement and nodded. She slowly crept forward, leaned over the couch to see Erik sleeping soundly. Her blue-eyes gazed at Darren, giving him a relieved expression, "….Thank goodness," she whispered, "…….I was….worried….." She stood up and walked to the kitchen to see (and smell!) the food at Ulrich was making, which was rather silly because women—well, this day in age unfortunately—are suppose to make breakfast but, Ulrich was a sweetie and knew that Lenore's been through too much to make breakfast for three people. But suddenly, Lenore started scratching her back furiously, remembering her dream and still feeling the tingle of glass sinking into her spine, causing her to cry out and jump on the spot, trying to scratch the same spot where the large shard of glass had sunk into her back nine years ago.

"Vhat are you doing, Lenore?" Ulrich said, stirring some sausages, "You've woken up with termites in your shirt or something?" He grinned.

"Nien," Lenore said, "I just had a nasty dream, is all…."

Ulrich frowned, "Another one, ja…? …..It's been awhile since you've had one…. Do you vant to talk about it…?" he asked.

Lenore yawned again, reached for a drawer to open out some silver-ware and plucked out a small fork, "No thanks, lad, if you've heard one story you've heard them a-a-a-all…," she yawned again. Lenore rubbed her eyes, "Besides,"—she sunk in the fork into a sausage and blew on the steam to cool it down and bit it in half, "I'm tough."

"Vell," Ulrich said, adding a few spices to the meats, "if you consider yourself 'tough' just by eating a hot, haff-cooked sausage, then your not really that tough, Lenore, hate to say." He jerked his eyes brows and shrugged. "Haff you heard from your Vater yet?" He asked suddenly.

Lenore had reached over to the fridge by the time Ulrich asked, grabbing a carton of eggs and a bag of beacon, "……Nope, no I haven't. He's probably busy as usual and I don't mind that, but he does expect me to be back in a couple of days or he'll come for me. …Again." She added, jerking her eyes to the ceiling with Ulrich grinning.

"He ist just vorried about you, lovely Fräulein, there ist no crime in that," Ulrich explain, turning off the stove and putting the sausages onto a plate, "I swear, ve need more than one pan…!" he growled, grabbing the pan and running it over some sink water and shaking it off and turning on the stove again to dry it with the fire, "….Vell, I suppose you don't need a cornucopia of pots und pans to make a good German Breakfast, vhich I will make less fatting, I assure you." He said, grinning at Lenore with raised brows through his glasses.

Lenore smiled, "Well, nothing more damaging than Irish food in the morning….Oh… and Ulrich….."

"Ja?" he said, adding the beacon on the pan, sizzling.

Lenore leaned up on her toes and kissed Ulrich on the cheek, "Thank you so much for helping Erik for me…," she whispered in his ear, "I really appreciate it…. Thanks."

Ulrich almost instantly turned a deep shade of crimson with his eyes bugged and his brows touching the sky, "Y-Y-Ihr Empfang, N-N-Nightingale...," he stammered, clearing his throat, "Y-You know I-I-I don't d-d-d-deserve all o-o-of the c-c-c-credit. Heh…." He smiled from ear to ear.

Lenore started to walk out towards the living room, "Oh, and Ulrich….?"

Ulrich looked at her with burning cheeks.

"The beacons burning….," She chuckled, pointing her index finger at the black smoke that was building up and Ulrich quickly fixed the issue by turning them over and turning down the heat. Lenore walked in but abruptly stopped by a look by Darren, looking rather peeved.

"Well, well, aren't you rather generous today?" he said curtly.

Lenore scratched her nose in silence.

"I helped out too, you know…," he said, "Don't I get something?"

"The satisfaction of saving an innocent soul, Darren, that's something I can never do." Lenore said seriously. Darren sighed…. Lenore smiled, understanding Darren's feelings for her. He's had these feelings for her for years and years…. Lenore walked around the couch and stood behind the chair Darren sat on, putting both of her hands on either side of his shoulders and lowered her head next to his ear, "…I know how you feel, Darren. I've always known…. But I don't think I'm the 'one' for you….."

Darren sighed, "Lenore…. I…."

"Don't worry….," Lenore said and walked over to the couch where Erik was. She went to the far end to where his head was and she slowly tip-toed in front of him and gently patted his shoulder, "Erik….? …..Erik, wake up…. You probably don't want to, but if you want a decent meal, you're going to have to get up….."

Erik's eyes twitched irritatingly before they slow opened to see the friendly face of his long-time friend, Lenore. This was the case, thankfully. He hadn't had wonderful nights sleep in such an awful, long amount of time… With the warm fire crackling and the only sound of his heartbeat slowly putting him to sleep. He blinked and slowly sat up, rubbing his head slightly.

"M-M-Morning….," Erik yawned. Erik's body shivered a chill down his back and jumped. He looked down and saw Lenore's half-smiling face.

"It's two-thirty in the afternoon, Erik. I think you must've slept in, mate…," Lenore said, "Peckish, lad…?"

Erik gave her a shocked look, "You're fooling, right?" he gasped.

"Great," she said brightly, patting him on the shoulder and stood up and then walked towards the kitchen--

"Uhm, Lenore?" Erik said quietly but loudly enough for her to hear and only her.

Lenore turned her head, her royal-blue eyes fixed on his gaze, "…Yes, Erik?" she asked.

Erik stood up and walked to Lenore, "May I talk to you… alone?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Uh-oh... I sense a confession... Thanks for reading!