Its late and I'm sorry but with Mum's laptop gone I just cant write so much on a buggy computer
"So what do you need for this idea of yours?" Erik asked suspiciously as Adriana scribbled designs and random notes to herself on a page of her notebook, she smirked, "Money for masks, feathers, ribbons, sequins and letters and a list of the wealthiest, vulgar and fashion conscious women in Paris."
"The first you already have most of, but the second is slightly ambiguous," Erik confessed, "What are you planning to do to them?"
"I'm not doing anything to them," she protested, looking up, "Merely letting them know that Elizabeth Smelter, the paramount masquerade creator in all of Holland is to open a boutique in Paris and would be entranced if you would deign to wear one of her designs to the upcoming New Years Eve Ball at the Opera Populaire."
"Elizabeth Smelter?" Erik asked disbelievingly, "Where did you pull that from?"
"Elizabeth is my confirmation name," she shrugged, "And Smelter was my mother's maiden name."
Erik shook his head, "It will never work," he disagreed, Adriana scrambled up from her belly first position on the floor and skidded over in her socks to where Erik was seated in his favourite chair, book (Sheridan Le Fanau's In a Glass Darkly actually) in hand. Te Wraith leaned over and read a few lines of Green Tea before remembering her purpose, "Trust me Erik," she said, twisting awkwardly under his arm to squirm into the Phantom's lap, "If there's one thing I'm an expert on, apart from you, its women. I know what I'm doing." The Phantom remained with his eyes locked steadfast on the pages of his book, unacknowledging of the presence of the other being seated with her legs swinging across his own.
"Erik," she growled, "Were you even listening to me?"
"Yes," Erik's gaze continued unblinkingly across the crowded words of the page.
"Then what did I just say?"
"If there is a single subject you hold a certain amount of expertise in, with the exception of that ridiculous and obsessive study of my past that you have continued on for God knows how long, it is the other members of your sex," he still refused to look up.
Adriana considered this and shrugged, "Close enough," she glanced at the small book dwarfed by Erik's slender fingers and grinned. With a fast fingered grab she snatched the book from his hand and tossed it half way across the room. Half a second later she was gripped by the arms and tossed a goodly distance across the floor. Without appearing to have moved Erik looked down at Adriana, who quailed just a bit under the steady fire of his eyes. "And what pray tell, was that?" his tone was quiet, unassuming and absolutely deadly, Adriana quailed slightly further against the rug.
"A terrible habit I appear to have picked up from my father somewhere along the way," she replied in a small voice, Erik nodded, "I see,"
"I'm sorry,"
"Apology noted,"
"But not accepted,"
"For the moment,"
"Oops," standing, Adriana straightened her clothes and retrieved Erik's book, "Let me know when I'm forgiven?" she asked, handing it to him.
"I'll consider it," Erik opened the page to precisely where he had been before and continued to read.
"Ok then, I'll be in the sewing room if you need me,"
"Doubtful, but I'll keep the option in mind,"
"Be nice," she chided automatically, collecting her scribbles, before she could react, Erik was standing before her, freezing her frame in place with one hand and cradling her face with the other, reaching down he closed the distance between their lips in a cold, starving kiss, "I am always nice," he whispered, releasing her towards the door.