"No book today, Christine?"
She shook her head and smiled fondly as she looked to the corner of the room where the Voice seemed to be coming from.
"No, Angel. I finished the one about little bird that was a man this week, but I wanted to wait before starting a new one so I could think about that one for a while longer."
"What book do you think you'll read next?"
The Voice had moved, and she glanced behind her to where he seemed to be now.
"I'm not too certain... To be honest, I might just read the same one again. It was very good, after all."
"Ah, I see."
The Voice sounded amused.
"Do you ever wish you lived in a fairy tale, Christine?" the Voice suddenly asked.
Christine paused.
Her first instinct had been to say yes, of course she did, but then she remembered to whom - to what - she was speaking.
Was her life not already blessed, on par with any other girl she'd read about in her stories? Wasn't she, who conversed with an angel in a near daily manner, just as interesting as the princess with the bird in her story, or the girl who escaped from the goblins, or the girl whose fiancé was turned into a polar bear, or, or- Jeanne d'Arc?
She blushed a little as she thought of that last one, certain that it was wicked to compare herself to a saint, even if she did hear an angel. Jeanne had saved all of France with the help of her angel - so far all Christine's angel had helped her to do was sing better.
She wondered briefly if the angel was testing her - would he be displeased if she yes, would he think her spoiled and ungrateful? But no, her angel wasn't like that. He was always curious to know her thoughts and opinions, but he had never disapproved of any of them so far. He had certainly never tricked her before, either, and she saw no reason why he should suddenly start.
Her hands fiddled with the fabric of her dress and she lowered her gaze to the floor.
"What girl doesn't dream of being a princess, at least sometimes?" was all she answered.
The angel made a small noise of agreement, and left it at that, changing the subject.
"How is your ankle feeling, child? Better now, I hope?"
She nodded.
"Better, yes. The ballet teacher says I'll be able to dance again the day after tomorrow."
It was one of the things she loved about the angel - his attentiveness. He had noticed her limping the day before and immediately inquired about it, concern coloring his voice. She had explained to him how she'd twisted her ankle after tripping on a particularly difficult new move in her ballet class, and he had been very sympathetic about the whole thing.
"Good, good. Are you ready to sing?"
The lesson went well, but towards the end Christine couldn't help but glance at the clock every now and then, and of course her angel noticed.
"Are you so anxious for your lesson to be over, child?"
Her face flushed, embarrassed.
"Oh! No, no - it's just I'm meeting Meg for lunch today at a cafe. I don't want to be late."
"You would do well to focus on one thing at a time."
"I know," she frowned. "I can't help but think of it, though. You know it's been so long since I've been out for anything fun."
"I know. Do one more run through of song from the finale, and then we will be done for the day."
She obeyed and tried to make it the best she had sung that particular song - the last thing she wanted was to get lazy with it and make the angel regret letting her leave her lesson early.
"Well done, Christine," he praised, and she smiled. "You've been working very hard lately, enjoy your trip to the cafe. You deserve a break."
"Thank you, Angel," she looked into the mirror and began pinning her hair up into a fashionable style before meeting her friend. "It's a new cafe, I've never been there before, but I hear they have such lovely cakes and sandwiches. I'm so excited!"
"You'll have to tell me all about it at our next lesson, then," his voice was warm and kind and seemed to come from the chair that was in the corner of her dressing room.
This was the other thing she loved about the angel - how personable he was. She found it so easy to talk to him, as though he were just another friend like Meg or Colette or Raoul, not at all how she would have thought it would have been to talk to a heavenly being.
It hadn't always been that way, however. The first year after the angel had first spoken to her, he had been rather aloof, keeping any talk strictly about music and her lessons. During the second year, she had grown more comfortable around his presence and had ventured occasional questions to him, most of which were brusquely answered, but eventually he would begin to inquire as to how her day was going and as time went on they began to have actual conversations. She enjoyed their conversations, and thought that maybe he did too - or at least she hoped he did.
"I will," she promised, glancing over to the chair. "Goodbye, Angel!"
"Goodbye, Christine."
True to her word she told him about the cafe visit on their next lesson.
"Oh, it was wonderful, Angel! I had so much fun with Meg, she and I are simply going to have to go back soon. They had a cinnamon roll that was so delicious-" she cut herself off, thinking about whether she should ask. "Can angels taste?"
The angel was quiet for a few moments.
"No, we cannot," he finally replied.
Her face fell just a little.
"Oh. Oh, that's too bad. This cinnamon roll was so delicious, it was covered in frosting and butter - oh, I wish you could have been there to try it!" she sighed.
"Truly, Christine?" Erik's heart was hammering in his chest. "You- you wished I was there with you at the cafe?"
"Well, of course, Angel," she tilted her head, unsure of why he sounded so hopeful. "We are friends, are we not? And friends want to share things with their friends."
She sighed before daring to tease him.
"Ah, if only you were a human, we could have our lesson out in the park and have tea at the cafe afterwards!"
Erik leaned against the cold stone wall, his knees no longer able to fully support him. His choice was sealed in that moment. We are friends, are we not?
Christine waited in silence for a few moments, unsure why the angel was so quiet.
"I'm ready to begin my lesson, if you are. I've been practicing," she said hopefully.
"Of course, child. Let me hear what you've been working on."
She nodded, wondering at the uncharacteristic waver to his voice, and began to sing.