A/N: Thanks again to MJ-Skywalker. I hope you continue to enjoy it.
Dislaimer: Lyrics from Aida.
Chapter 2
We seized the day
We turned the tide
We touched the stars
We mocked the grave
We moved into uncharted lands
Fortune favors the brave
Though it was early evening and the sun had since passed the height of its shining, Erik was nearly blinded by the glare as he and Nadir emerged from the opera house. Coming into the light was a shock to Erik. His instincts immediately screamed at him to flee. Still, he gritted his teeth and followed Nadir.
The path from the side entrance to the carriage parked outside it seemed to stretch miles longer than the few feet of which it actually consisted. Upon reaching the coach, Erik practically leaped inside and breathed a sigh of temporary relief. Maybe this was going to be harder than he had anticipated.
From that point, however, the evening improved. Erik instantly liked the Marrakesh. The restaurant lacked any outward displays and resided behind a remote door in the same building as the neighboring carriage house. The place was not exactly an impenetrable fortress, but one would have to deliberately seek it out rather than simply stumble upon it.
The ambience was enhanced by the dim lighting, and Erik was able to relax once they were seated amongst the exotic Moroccan draperies. Miraculously, the waiter did not glance twice at the mask. Probably Nadir had mentioned the issue when he made the reservation, Erik realized, and wondered briefly how exactly such a conversation would progress. But he soon decided it made little difference and gave it no further thought.
The way the tables were arranged gave each party a generous amount of space. The distance combined with the inconsequential light ensured that Erik also received no stares from the other customers.
During the fourth course, the lights suddenly turned off. Erik's eyes adjusted to the darkness rather quickly; he was easily able to discern the shapes of several waiters in the center aisle, who appeared to be assembling some sort of table.
"What is going on?" Erik whispered to Nadir.
Nadir was unsure of how to answer. He had a fairly good idea of what was going on, but he dreaded Erik's reaction. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe…well, first Erik, you should know that I was not aware this would be included with dinner…"
The Persian was accustomed to and had an appreciation for the art of exotic dancing. He suspected though, that what he considered aesthetic enjoyment, Erik would consider degradation of women.
"…but it's a traditional part of the culture, and of course the purpose of the establishment is to give one a complete cultural experience…" Nadir began to babble as they watched the shadow of a woman come down the aisle. With the help of the waiters, she ascended the table and struck a pose.
The waiters left and returned to the kitchens. The dim house lights came back on, along with a brighter spotlight focused on the table. Vibrant Moroccan music began to play, and the woman began dancing suggestively.
Nadir warily watched Erik, who was gazing at the table with resigned distaste. A moment later, his expression suddenly changed to one of utter shock.