I own none of the things.

"I mean, microtones? Three weeks into lessons, and he wants me singing in microtones?"

Meg winced at her best friend's lamentations about her new voice teacher. Since Christine's first lesson with him, she had been on edge, and Meg had been shouldering much of the burden of calming her down.

"Well, it can't be so bad… I mean, singing on pitch is good, right?"

Christine huffed, and nestled deeper into the plushy depths of the papasan, aggressively wringing and stretching the sleeve of her cardigan in her hands.

"And don't get me started on what he's like when we're not singing. It's bad enough that he acts so goddamned superior and gets pissy when I don't live up to his impossibly high standards, but he's always staring at me. It's weird. He stares at me through the whole lesson and I swear he never looks away once. He's just doing it to intimidate me, too. I know he is. What did I do to incur the wrath of the teacher from hell?" Christine twisted around in the chair to look at her friend in the kitchen. "Erik is like… Snape, and I'm Harry. Except that he doesn't actually turn out to be a good guy, or in love with my mom."

Meg sighed at the audible pout in the other girl's voice and made her way from Christine's kitchen to the living room, carrying two freshly blended milkshakes.

"Okay…" Meg started carefully, handing the brunette a frosty mug, then taking a seat on the floor. "So maybe he's a bit… demanding. And intense. You shouldn't let it get to you, though. I'm sure it's not personal."

Meg had no idea whether or not it was personal. She was completely thrown for a loop about this whole situation, because in all the years she had known her friend, Christine had never been one to complain about trivial things. The only conclusion she could come to was that this was not a trivial matter. What made things doubly confusing for her was that Christine had always been the voice of reason in their relationship, and she was not used to playing therapist. The whole affair made her head hurt.

"What I mean is… Are you really sure he hates you? What if he actually likes you, and this is way of showing it?"

Christine looked up from her chocolatey concoction, her face a mask of pure revulsion and horror. "Absolutely not, Meg. That is so not funny. Not ever will that be funny."

Meg held up her hands in a defensive gesture. " I didn't mean it like that, but…" Meg paused, considering. "The lady doth protest too much, methinks." Immediately, she shielded her head with her arms to protect against the inevitable onslaught of objects thrown by Christine and laughed. "You are an ass!" cried Christine, also laughing as she lobbed throw pillows at the hysterical blonde.

Erik stoically watched the happy scene unfold from the fire escape outside Christine's window. For half a moment, something registered on his face in the pale light of the living room, but the thought passed as quickly as it had come. A beat, and all that he left behind was the fledgling darkness of twilight.