She'd fallen asleep again, only this time when Ang awoke, she initially opened her eyes to sheer darkness. Her breathing came quick almost immediately, though it slowed as her vision adjusted and perceived the muted blue glow the lake eerily emitted. It wasn't enough to truly see by, but she could just barely make out the shadowy outlines of the organ, the furniture, whatever else had had stored in this part of his subterranean kingdom. For all she knew, he could be in the shadows.
A cramping low in her belly reminded her of a certain function that had gone ignored since she haphazardly landed in Victorian Paris.
"Hello? Are you there?" Ang wiggled around until she was able to climb to her knees, and then to her feet. Hands gripped the bars. Her face was brought close between them as she strained to see. "Mr. Opera Ghost? Erik?" Her face flushed in embarrassment. She'd have to just say it. "I need to use the bathroom. Please?"
"You wish to bathe?" came the low voice less than a foot from her left ear.
Ang yelped! She whirled around and slapped a hand to the bare flat of her chest as she fought to catch the breath that had tried to run away from her. "You seriously have to stop doing that."
"I said, you wish to bathe?" he repeated blandly.
"N-no. I mean, I have to... um... relieve myself." Her cheeks burned. Asking for a restroom back home was so much easier!
There was a grunt and the discernible clanking and clicking of metal upon metal until the screech of hinges alerted her to the fact that she was free. She rushed forward in excitement, but the cool leather of a firm glove wrapped about her arm just above her elbow, tugging her to an abrupt stop. She jerked a few times, but his grip only tightened. With a slump of her shoulders, she stilled. "Are you quite finished?" his voice growled in her ear. Ang nodded.
Wordlessly, he guided, and partially dragged, her through the relative darkness. He must have eyes like a cat to be able to maneuver though this maze without a light, but then again, if this was all he knows... They came to a stop and there was more metal on metal, followed by a thunk and a squeal of more hinges. A heavy wood door swung inward, bathing her, the corridor, and the cloaked figure of legend in a soft glow of light. He shoved her roughly inside. Her unbending foot caught on the lip of the Persian rug within and Ang went sprawling, landing on hands and knees.
"You have ten minutes," came the curt order, and with a slam and a click of the lock, she was alone. Again. Though to be honest, she would prefer to be by herself rather than having him observe her.
Her gaze immediately sought out the toilet, an earthenware trap type that sat against another wall, and upon further inspection, there even seemed to be mechanisms for flushing it with water. A small fireplace, empty and cold, stood awaiting a fire. There was also a large copper basin for bathing which sat flat on the floor, surrounded by rich wood paneling on the outside and a sloped inside that looked like it would be fairly comfortable to lounge against. A sink was behind it, and a vanity table with a mirror and low, padded bench stood a few paces away. The table held a ceramic mug with a soap cake, a thick shaving brush, and atop a white towel lay a straight razor, along with a silver box beside that held various cravat pins and cufflinks. At least it didn't appear that he was expecting to abduct and keep a woman down here. Her sudden arrival must have surprised him as much as her. And if she was pre-Christine... P.C., she thought with a wan chuckle.
After relieving herself and washing her hands, she took a timid seat on the bench and appraised herself in the looking glass. It wasn't new and was somewhat hazy around the edges, but she could see well enough. In the book and plays, the Phantom's Christine was a woman of immense beauty and extraordinary vocal talent and classical dance training. That was what lured him to the young woman in the first place. Ang was neither beautiful nor talented, so it stood to reason that once he saw she was of no use to him, he would turn her loose.
A key suddenly threw the lock's tumbler back and the door swung open abruptly, causing Ang to surge to her feet. "You don't even knock?"
"This is my domain," he snapped sharply, annoyance tinging his voice.
She walked over to him, shoulders back and squared. "What if I haven't finished yet?"
He took her by the arm again, though not as harshly as before, and began towing her back the way they'd previously come. "It would have been your own fault. I gave you plenty of time, Mademoiselle."
"How generous you are, Monsieur," she drawled, putting emphasis on the French title as her annoyance grew.
His attention flicked down at her. "You informed me you did not understand or speak French." There was a warning growl in his voice before he scoffed audibly, then muttered something in French under his breath.
"I don't," she argued, having no idea what he was accusing her of in that second sentence, but certainly able to guess. "Everyone where I'm from knows what mademoiselle and monsieur mean. We also all know bonjour, and adieu, and... au revoir. But that's it. I only took Spanish in school. Oh, and some sign language." His face turned toward her as they walked, and she continued. "Sign language. Um, speaking with your hands so that people who are deaf can communicate." She paused to see if it made any sense to him. "Helen Keller. Annie Sullivan. No?" He looked away, dismissing her prattle as useless, and Ang bit back a sigh. Fine. Don't talk to me.
"Abbé Charles-Michel de l'Épée," he said suddenly, some moments later.
Ang blinked and looked up at him. "What?"
"Abbé Charles-Michel de l'Épée," he repeated. "He was the man who first opened a school for those who could not hear, here in Paris, over a century ago."
She remained quiet for a few breaths before allowing a ghost of a smile to whisper across her lips. "Thank you... for sharing that with me." Her cage came into view and she slowed her steps in reluctance while he continued to tug at her arm. "If I ever get home I'll tell my friends."
"Home is where you should have stayed, Mademoiselle," he spat out and shoved her forward, back into the bronze bird cage.
Ang whirled on him as he locked the door up. "Don't you have a room you could put me in?"
"Why? Allowing you to steal more of my belongings?" he snapped, gesturing to the gown.
"I didn't know it belonged to you. You're a man; what do you need a dress for?" Surely cross-dressing wasn't something typically accepted except for the rare occasion for actors, and even that practice went out a little after Shakespeare's time.
"Does it belong to you?"
"Well, no."
"So it stands to reason it belonged to someone else. Not you. And yet you still took it. Oui? " He paused and tipped his head to the side. "That means yes."
"I know what it means, smart ass." She sighed and crossed her arms defiantly across her chest. He continued to stare at her in challenge. "Alright. Yes. Even though I knew it belonged to someone else, I put it on." She paused before continuing, some of the fight leaving her. "I was just... borrowing it. It was so pretty, and green is my favorite color. And I don't own any pretty dresses like this. I just... wanted to know what it felt like to be... beautiful. I wasn't going to keep it; my clothes are still down there. Up there." Up? Down? Where the hell was she?
Ang was still trying to puzzle out her location when his voice interrupted her thoughts. "Although you do not seem to have any remorse for your thievery, I forgive you." And with that, he spun on his heel and walked away.
"Hey! You're just going to leave me here?"
"Oui. I cannot have a thief wandering freely about my domain. I have work to do." And with that, he climbed the steps to the wide stone platform where his organ stood. "By the way," he called to her as sat upon the bench, "your accent is horrible."
A/N: I hope you're enjoying these two as much as I am. Two strong wills coming head to head... *laughs gleefully* Too much fun! Also, I'm trying really hard to imagine what he would really say, as well as how he might say it, given that it's late 1800's AND English is his second language, not his first. If you have any suggestions, please don't hesitate to share them! *slips into a French accent* Until next time, mes amies.