"Dada! Dada! Dada!" Charlotte ran away from Gustave down the backstage hall.
"Charlotte wait!" The boy exclaimed closing stage door behind him while holding a bouquet of pink roses.
"I turned her in the right direction, Young Mister," one of the stage hands gestured his head to the right.
"Thank you." The Young Mister turned to see bodies parting to reveal a path for his sister to their parents.
"Dada!" Charlotte's arms were stretched up and open.
"Charlotte, my little darling!" Erik bent down and pulled her into a tight embrace before lifting her up.
"You were on stage, singing with Mama! Without your mask! Everybody saw you!"
He chuckled as he spun around with her, "Yes they did! And what did you think?"
"Your clothes are funny," the girl giggled.
"Brava, Mother!" Gustave finally appeared. He bowed to his mother presenting the roses.
"Oh Gustave! How beautiful, thank you!" Awkwardly holding the flowers, she pulled her son into a hug.
Upon seeing the pink roses, Charlotte stretched her hands out, "Dada gets flowers too!"
"Dada, gets none of the sort," The Soprano walked up to her daughter in her husband's arms and took ahold of one of her stretched out hands. "And did you enjoy the show?"
"Dada gets flowers!"
"Oh no, darling, all the flowers are for Mama," Erik kissed Charlotte's cheek, even with the make-up.
"No! Dada gets flowers! Dada gets flowers!" The girl squirmed and wiggled as tears poured down her cheeks. "Flowers, flowers…ahhhh!"
The moment her legs started kicking, Christine sighed and glared at her husband, "Erik."
"Charlotte, stop!" He sat her back down.
"No Dada!" She cried and then continued to cry holding onto his leg.
"I believe she is tired," 'Demeter' paused on her way to her dressing room. "He's still spoiling her isn't he, Christine?"
Christine nodded as she rolled her eyes.
"Her face in the audience tonight was worth it though," 'Demeter' smiled at Erik. "We are all very proud of you, sir. See you at the party!"
Once she was gone attention return to Charlotte, who was quickly exhausting herself with her fit.
"Gustave, take your sister home," The Phantom spoke.
"Why me?" The boy exclaimed. "I want to go to the party! Rose is going to be there!"
"And she will still be there once you take Charlotte home," Erik patted his son's head. "Mary is at home with Matilda so she will take care of Charlotte once you get her there. Now your mother and I need to change for the party."
Christine sat at her vanity every piece of her House of Worth evening gown in place. She smiled at her reflection as she held her hair up before letting it fall down.
There was a light knock at the door followed by Erik's voice, "I am ready to see where my money went."
"It's open. And I believe it was my money that bought this dress," Christine watched the door open in the mirror's reflection.
Her husband appeared in his tux, his mask and wig in one hand.
"I am almost ready. I sent Anne home before I should have and now I cannot do a thing with my hair. Do you think I will be forgiven if I wear it down like I did in my youth?" She opened a drawer of her dressing table, "I have some lovely combs here somewhere."
"I don't think they will notice with that dress. Stand up, let me see," He smiled.
Christine stood, her plum skirts rustling as she spun around to show off the whole dress and train. The Diva finally paused, fully absorbing her husband's face, her eyes wide.
"Erik, Angel," She rubbed his deformed cheek. "Are you going to put on your mask and wig?"
"No." The word was firm but she saw fear in his eyes.
Concerned filled The Diva's eyes, "Is this because of what I made you do?"
Erik kissed the top of his wife's head, "I want to do this, Angel. They've already seen me on stage and it was freeing."
"You don't have to do this. I only asked for the stage because I was furious. I figured I would call your bluff and you would step away, but you proved me wrong." She pulled him into an embrace and rested her head on his chest.
He ran his finger through her hair, "I said I want to. Going out on the stage without the mask and wig was so freeing. And then nobody screamed, booed or started a riot. They cheered for me, for us, for our glorious voices!"
She dug her nails into his shoulder blades, "Yes, but did they realize it was actually your face? I know some did but how many thought it was part of the show?"
The Phantom laughed, "Ah Christine do you really think they thought this was make-up?" He pulled away from her and sat his mask and wig on the top of her vanity. He picked up a comb and ran it through his thin natural hair.
The Soprano watched intently as her husband stared at his reflection, brushing his hair. Once he was finished, he sat the comb down, turned around and smiled at her, "How do I look?"
She forced a smile, "Handsome."
He chuckled as he walked over and took her arm, "I'll take the lie."