Pardon me, Solecito. Perhaps I am a little agrrrrivated that I have six reviews for as many chapters and at least three of them are yours, dear! Since you really are a dear, I'll try to be productive instead of pouty.

Mama Valerius would be unrecognizable if I gave her a new name and it's worth saying that I always thought she was underestimated.

The abduction

L'enlèvement

—

Scene V

Focus: le monstre

What had he been thinking? Erik remembered all too well. He had been thinking he could win her love; he could protect her. Had he done either? No.

Arrogance, seemed unlikely, considering his circumstances, but he had been very proud and were they not very nearly the same thing? Pride was all he had left, pride and a squandered genius. Somehow it seemed if he could only make her love him it would acquit him of everything else. He still hadn't figured it out.

Which was probably the very madness that had seized him just now.

—

Scene V

Focus: le gardien galant

Ralph frowned as he knocked on her door again. Silence. Tentativeness fled him and he swung the door open. Late afternoon sunshine poured over the crisp looking golden yellow sheets on her bed. A sudden knot in his throat compelled him to swallow.

While he flung himself out of doors to catch a cab, Max kept his head and addressed their landlady.

"Madame Valerius," he said, urgently, leaning over the desk in the lobby, "did Charlotte come in this afternoon?"

"I have not seen Mademoiselle since this morning, when she left with you."

"Thank you," Max shouted over his shoulder. Running to catch up. Ralph wouldn't hold the taxi once he'd gotten one.

Numerous inconveniences had worked Ralph into a panic (directions, bad traffic, finding the correct change). So that when he cried out in horror, again, Max didn't immediately think anything of it. When Max saw, he was shocked, but instantly understood how his friend felt. He was flooded with pity.

Across the floor of the stage level landing of a staircase, lay scattered their spare floor plans and blueprints and an electric torch. It must have switched on when it was dropped, hours ago. The dying beam of light stretched on before them through the darkness.

—

Chills anyone? Should I begin serving complementary hot chocolate, chai, and espresso at the end of each chapter? Oh, j'aime le symbolisme.