I have reviews! I am loved! (sigh) I feel so special, and sore, I've been dancing at a deb right after work right after getting my midyear report right after the last day of school and I'm sitting at the computer at 10 past 12 writing you all thankyous so you better be grateful! (And I'm still in my long black skirt and satin gothic corset, go me!)

MetalMyersJackson: Your right, probably no Metallica, but hey, its fiction, anything goes (mwahahaha)

Remysgirl: Here…is…more…

Nightshadesister-01: Present for you, and a quote, "Everybody is somebody else's weirdo" And did you know the Melbourne colonial club is having a masquerade on Saturday! (the twenty-fifth) My god! How far are you from Melbourne?

Music Angel no.24601: No it doesn't sound good, but it would if Erik said it...

aragornlover: I honestly believe here is more, I'm glad you love it

Ankh of Hearts: Fangirl based stories rule! We get to act out our fantasies! (its fun, you should try it some time)

Erik's first port of call was The Persian, a popular restaurant gaining fame in Paris as the new place to be. The Persian himself, in fact, ran it, Erik's friend Nadir. Erik entered through the front door, masked and caped, with his fedora drawn down low over his brow.

"A private room if you will," he purred to the doorman, refusing any attempts to have his cloak removed, "And have the manager sent there directly." The frightened looking doorman nodded, quickly showing the dark stranger to an opulent sitting room then scurried off to get Nadir.

A few moments later, Nadir swept into the room, bearing a tray with two glasses and a potent liquid imported from the East.

"Erik!" he exclaimed in his rich Persian accent, "I could hardly believe it when Darvon told me that there was a dark cloaked mystery man asking for me! I had thought you gone!"

Erik chuckled, "Not so daroga, it appears that I am still residing in Paris," he looked around the room at the rich furniture as Nadir poured them each a glass of olki. "You have done well for yourself since we last met."

Nadir spread his hands, settling himself across from Erik "I cater for the wants of the rich and famous, they have no idea that half of the dishes here are made in the homes of every Persian family every day of the week, and the stories you here are enough to land most of these peacocks and their consorts in jail for life." He smiled with relish, "It's not so bad"

"I am glad to here it," Erik told him, with real warmth in his voice, they both sipped on the fiery cherry and yam liquor.

"So what brings you to me, Erik?" Nadir said, tilting his head up to look at his old companion. "It is not often you require company for companies sake." Erik shrugged,
"I am in need of money, I believe I left a sizable account with you some time ago, and have found the need to withdraw a significant amount."

"So you are leaving Paris?" Nadir asked shrewdly, Erik laughed,

"No, daroga, I still feel that Paris requires its ghosts as well as its stars, but I have grown tired of moping, my music calls to me, and I must answer."

Nadir stood, "But of course my friend," he replied, "How much would you require?" Erik reached into the folds of his cloak and withdrew a slip of paper, "This should cover it for now, should I need more, I shall return again."

Nadir's eyebrows rose at the sum scrawled onto the parchment, "Very well," he answered, "I'll have it for you shortly," Erik tossed back the last of his olki.

"Thankyou daroga." He replied as Nadir ducked out of the rich purple curtains of the doorway.

"I hope you will call on me again, Erik," Nadir said as he handed Erik the bag of money, upwards of 100 000 francs.

"You may rest assured of it, daroga." Erik replied with a courteous nod of his head, and disappeared into the night.

Erik knew of several late night shops, which he used quite often and made his way round to each of them. The bookshop for parchment and ink, he had not lied when he told Nadir his music beckoned, food and liquor at another, and soaps and other toiletries at a third. He halted awkwardly at the ladies clothes shop he had frequented for Christine, then steeling himself, and settling his packages, he entered.

The sleepy minder sitting at the counter smiled at him as she saw him enter, her smile broadened as he pulled out a wad of francs and outlined what he wished for.

"I would like to purchase several ladies items for a woman of, oh, medium sized standards. I will be requiring three corsets, two bustles nightclothes, petticoats and several skirts and blouses."

"Of course monsieur, what style would your lady friend like?" she dropped him a wink, evidently under the impression he was some famous or rich womanizer shopping for his new mistress. Erik let it pass, the lie would do for now. "Nothing in white, pink, or pale yellow," he said firmly, remembering Adriana's requests, the girl smiled,

"As you wish," she said, turning to a long rack of skirts, "Perhaps blue?" the girl began placing outfits on the counter, a dazzling array of colours and styles started to grow. Erik hurriedly set down his other parcels as he realised this may take a little time. Maybe he should have brought Adriana with him after all. With a scrutinising eye, he selected two dark blue skirts, with matching white blouses, a long green skirt, a red jacket blouse, and a dark maroon dressing gown. The nightgowns only came in white, but he shied away from the more…opulent fashions the girl offered him, oh well, the girl would just have to deal. Three day dresses, pale green, fawn, and a dark rose, it was pink, but he thought the style would suit her. A blue riding habit, bustles, petticoats, a pair of slippers and boots, and a number of fine silk scarves later, Erik realised he should definitely brought the girl, if only for another pair of hands. Finally he added a rich wine dress with black lacing, a short sable cloak and a black skirt and short sleeved tight black jacket, as an afterthought he also brought two pairs of black trousers. The girl didn't strike him as the type to sit in the lair and embroider, and it was next to impossible to navigate the levels of the Opera house in a skirt. His cape was an entirely different matter of course, one couldn't haunt the Opera House of one lacked the ability to do so dramatically, and a flowing black cloak that swirled about his shoulders was a necessity.

The night's purchases cut a significant amount out of what he had received from Nadir, but Erik still felt as though he had a job well done as he entered through the Rue Scribe entrance and slipped back down to his lair.