Disclaimer: I don't own POTO. Duh.
Solecito: Lilies come in all kinds of colors. Stargazers are Oriental lilies with pink petals edged in white and dotted dark red near the center. Casablancas are my favorite, (big white ones) just because they share their name with my favorite movie.
Nameless Waif: Thank you again. I am so glad you like this phic so much. As for the Stargazer lilies, they are frequently used in florist shops. I described them in the review reply above.
Silvermasque: (wails) I know! 'Twas very long indeed, but I had to get it out. The Gerry was grumbling at me the whole time…speaking of Gerry. Hmm, Gerry and ice cream…oh, yeah. Hey, DBCA sounds cool although I don't completely understand. Is it a part of your fic? I do love lots of the darlings on your list though. Erik (duh), Snape, Jack Sparrow, and Darth Vader (Episodes 4-6 only). As for Gabriel Van Helsing, I have to admit that I think he's a loser.
aragornnme: (GASP!) You have never read the wonderful insanity that is Hitchhiker's? (dies) It is sheer brilliance on a cosmic scale. Movie was hysterical, too. I feel so bad about that "crushing reply" quote because some other people really liked it and I did not think it up. (blushes and hides in the Gerry's shirt). I got it from a Christmas movie, if you can believe it. Oh, yeah, got Erik quoting White Christmas.
Lenis Vox: So glad to be of help in lightening your mood. As for popping Christine, feel free as long as she's still alive and as long as you clean up the mess because I don't imagine it would be very pretty.
Ellen: All credit "The Gerry" title goes to my dear friend Phantress. If Gerry himself ever stumbles across this phic I hope he'll take it as an endearing compliment. I am pleased to be giving you such a good impression of phanphiction. There are many stories out there that are far better than mine, so you should be well pleased with some of the others out there. As far as recommended reading lists: I myself am on a Jane Austen binge right now. I love her. I am very much a classics person. I also love children's literature and fantasy. Chronicles of Narnia is my fav. Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, LOTR, Harry Potter. Jack London, Edgar Allen Poe, John Steinbeck, Amy Tan are some good authors to check out. It all depends on your taste though. Just start picking up stuff from your library's fiction section.
Lady Brandybuck of the Shire: (sweeps a bow) Thanks.
speechdisappearsintosilence: Dear speechdisappearsintosilence, I should warn you that excessive praise may be damaging to Misty's character. It is giving her such a bloated ego, it is near impossible to live with her. Sincerely, The Gerry.
lady summoner2: Brooke mutters and pens a quick note: Sushi from ceiling.
SimplyElymas: Haha! Thank you. Love to you as well.
Sirius Is My King: Welcome to the Phandom! Always a pleasure to have another lunatic—I mean, another loving phan onboard. And the Phantom is sexy. I have no idea what was wrong with Christine's sexy sensors.
OneWhoSiteWithTheTurtles: You have no idea how much I appreciate you taking my request for suggestions seriously. The truthg-or-dare thing is a good idea. I'll probably use, maybe half-serious, half-fun. But thank you so much again and again.
The OneTruePhantom: Well, I know now! I'm kind of new to HGTTG.
Melissa Aminta: As much as I love the compliment of Erik being proud of this, I honestly think he'd kill me for it. LOL. I love him though. As for me and Gerry, thanks for asking. We are getting along beautifully. He's curled up on my beanbag, sipping hot chocolate and reading. (Don't I just wish)
ShaShiSar221: I missed the randomness, too. It will be fluctuating depending on what I feel like writing or what the phic calls for. There will probably be a lot more until some good seriousness crops up.
Pleading Eyes: Shush! You're giving away my plot! (Gerry: You said you didn't have one. Misty: Quiet. I said I didn't understand it). The buddy moment is a good idea. Will keep in mind.
Music Angel no.24601: I understand. Okay, don't kill me, but I've never seen Les Mis on stage, never read the book. I just bought the soundtrack and have seen the Liam Neeson version, which I totally adore. My folks have seen the musical (pouts).
Sarah: Thanks and welcome to the phamily! I'm afraid I don't know what ddr is.
smgirl: Attraction is still there. It's just in a slow-cooker.
His Mask: Thank you so much for the reassurance.
Beregond'sGirl: The idea is that Anna and Brooke have sung that song before to terrorize the ballet rats and they were reacting to its reappearance.
Marianne Brandon: OMG! I think that's the best thing I've heard thus far! My Erik receives approval. (runs around in happy circles and makes the Gerry give Marianne a kiss). yeah! Must admit (blushes) I borrow that "crushing reply" line from the movie White Christmas.
Songwind: I have no idea when or Why (which may be the more important question) they celebrate Moose Day. Crazy Americans celebrate everything.
Atressa O'Riordan: Welcome to the phamily. I hope the A/N from last chapter explains the premise and plot for the phic. It's a work-in-progress to say the least.
ania potter-malfoy: The cat-bird feathers thing is a simile meant to give the idea that Brooke looks smugly satisfied with her haunting abilities.
OneWhoWalksWithPigeons: (scratches head) I'm very chat room illiterate. So I have no idea how this party deal works. It's a hilarious idea though. And I do like muffins, chocolate chip ones.
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THE NEW PATRONESS
Erik was beside him self with curiosity and suspicion. For sometime, the cousins had been frequenting the costume department. They had every employee of that department scared out of their wits and refusing to eat fish. But the haunting was not what had Erik in such wretched suspense. It was the terrible little thought in his mind that the cousins were up to something, and if there was anything he had learned from living with Anna and Brooke, it was that it was best to pay attention when they were "up to something."
Thus, one morning, Erik took to following Anna about their house, inquiring after the recent fascination with the costume department.
"You and Brooke have been spending an awful lot of time in the costume department lately," Erik said, following Anna into the kitchen.
"So?" She busied herself with pulling the laundry down from the clothesline Erik had constructed for them.
"So, why the sudden interest?" He towered beside her, hoping to intimidate her into spilling the beans. She did drop one of his clean shirts on the floor, but that was in response to the pleasant flutter she felt at having him stand so near as she did something as simple as pull down the laundry. The situation had a comforting, domestic quality about it, and, fortunately, this did not escape Erik's notice entirely.
"You know how much Brooke likes costumes," Anna finally answered him. The young woman hastily brushed a few specks of dirt from the shirt. Erik arched an eyebrow at her, visible this time because he never wore his mask when it was just he and the girls at home.
"I do know. I also know that neither of you showed half as much interest in the costume department during the preparations for the masque as you do now."
Anna dumped the clean clothes into a wicker basket and toted the whole thing out of the room, cradling it against her hip. "What, exactly, are you implying, Erik?"
He trailed her to the sitting room, where Brooke awaited the laundry basket, her own little pile of garments sitting beside her.
"I'm implying that you two little terrors are up to something and I want to know what it is."
The redhead poured out the clothes and sank down beside Brooke. She snatched up a pair of Erik's trousers, but found she had to stand again to fold them because they were too long.
Brooke's sparkling green eyes flicked up to regard her cousin, "He wants to know what we're up to, Anna?"
Anna took up the game, cocking her head to the side, like a dog pondering a puzzling sound, "Does he now? Well, I must admit I don't know what to say. I'm not up to anything." She glared at Brooke. "Are you?"
The brunette looked offended. "I most certainly am not! Really, Erik, if you're going to pick a fight, you might as well join the laundry party while you're at it." She held out a pair of cotton bloomers to him.
Erik snorted disdainfully, "Women's work! You're funny, Brooke."
Anna chucked a bundle of socks at him. Erik ducked to avoid the projectile, then settled into a chair, and told the girls stories as they folded the laundry. He hadn't given up though; he was simply biding his time. When Anna trotted into the master bedroom to change into her haunting apparel, Erik followed.
"Anna, tell me what is going on. You're planning something, I know it!"
"Not telling."
"Do I have to use force?"
"HA!"
Erik growled. "Please?"
"Nope."
He almost followed her into the purple tent, but a small hand pressed against his chest stopped him.
"Stay," she commanded. The Phantom halted, blushing slightly at his near mistake. Anna disappeared into the tent and Erik could hear her rustling about as she changed clothes. To his utmost embarrassment, she threw her gown out the opening and onto his head.
Erik spluttered indignantly and ripped the heavy garment from his person. He barely had time to reason between the pros and cons of having a woman throw her dress at him, when a petticoat sailed toward him, followed by a corset. The Phantom almost squeaked in horror as he jumped out of the way. Light snickering caught his ears.
He fumed. She was going to pay for her impertinence and revenge just happened to be crawling along his coffin in the form a huge, ugly, grey spider. Grinning wickedly, Erik scooped up the arachnid and, whistling softly to himself, he tossed the bug into the tent.
The whole room exploded into chaos the next second.
"OH MY…..EEEEEEEEEEEERIK!" Anna screamed at the top of her lungs. The girl shot out of the tent in her chemise and bloomers, dancing about the room in utter panic as she desperately tried to shake the spider from her. It was the most amazing thing the Opera Ghost had ever witnessed. Brooke rushed in to see what the ruckus was about. She found her cousin breaking down with hysterics and Erik doubling over with honest, open laughter. Then she saw the traumatized spider making a speedy beeline for the nearest exit. The brunette yelped and ran out the room again.
Erik's body was wracked with hiccups and snorts as he tried to hold in his laughter. He managed to recover his senses in time to avoid Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, as is came soaring at his head.
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Some hours later, Brooke and Anna left the costume department. This time Brooke clutched several swatches of fabric in her hand. Anna followed after her, still twitching and shrinking from every sudden noise or movement.
"Will you stop being so skittish?" Brooke hissed. "You're making me nervous."
"Sorry," Anna replied as she shied away from a swaying rope.
"Maybe we should find Jean-Paul so that you can take your fear out on him."
"Heh, heh, maybe."
Fortunately for Jean-Paul, who was still recovering from the sandbag incident, the girls were distracted from hunting him out when they came across the Persian. With stealthy silence that rivaled the Phantom's, they crept up behind the daroga and poked his shoulders.
The grown man managed to cut off an embarrassingly girly shriek before it attracted too much attention. Whirling about, expecting to look up into Erik's blazing eyes, he was obviously surprised to gaze down at the Raven and the Spirit.
"Hello, M. Khan." Anna whispered.
"Allah! Haven't you learned that it is impolite to sneak up on people like that? I'd expect it of Erik, but not of you," Nadir said.
Brooke shrugged, "Erik's a bad influence, what can I say. Waiting for ballet practice to be over?"
"No! Absolutely not. What gives you that idea?" the Persian hurriedly answered, his ruddy face flushing.
Anna leaned in and whispered conspiratorially to her cousin, "Me thinks he doth protest too much."
"Ay. The reason we suspect so, sir, is because you are standing outside the entrance to the ballet room."
Before he could reply, the sound of approaching humans caused the girls to dart into the shadows and slip behind a hollowed column. They were about to shut the sliding door behind them when a strangely familiar trio of voices stopped them. Around the corner came the managers, leading a tour for a new patroness and her valets. It was none other than Cecily Cheney with Pip and Que in tow.
Though Cecily's family was not titled, they were as wealthy as the de Chagnys. Thus, the young woman wore only the latest fashions when in town. She looked stunning in a deep blue day dress, a smart, feathered bonnet titled at a rakish angle. On the other hand, the poor former stable hands were looking as uneasy as penguins in a polar bear cage. Cecily had forced them to wear the family's livery: horrid, stuffy suits of cobalt and mustard yellow.
"Those are the most revolting colors I have ever seen," Brooke whispered. Anna made a yakking noise to display her agreement.
M. Andre (again movie characters cuz they just work) was prattling on about the muse motifs used throughout the opera house.
Anna huffed, "As if he knows what he's talking about. Erik must have an internal B.F. every time he hears that coxcomb talk about 'motifs.'"
"Probably thinks motifs have something to do with the hairstyles on the muses."
Cecily was listening to the ranting man with an air of haughty, distant interest, as befit a lady of her rank. To a more observant person, it was apparent that she was doing this for show, not because of any inclination in her real character. Of course, the managers did not know this. They persisted in making a profuse demonstration of the beauty and efficiency of the Opera Populaire and in brown-nosing whenever possible.
As the little group came upon the ballet room, Cecily allowed her gaze to drift and eventually spied the foreign gentleman standing beside the door. A strange light of recognition flickered in her grey eyes and she immediately broke away from her party to approach the Persian. Nadir was obviously startled by her notice and stiffened with wariness as she held out a gloved hand to him.
"Bonjour, monsieur. What is your position here at the opera house?" the lady began. Her servants followed like obedient puppies.
The managers were not far behind, interfering before Nadir could get out a word in reply. "Oh, my dear mademoiselle, you don't want to touch that. Never know where it's been. Now, here is the ballet room—"
Cecily would not be deterred, "But who is this gentleman? A ballerina's patron?"
M. Firmin leaned into whisper loudly, "He is a strange fellow, Mlle. Cheney, always hangs about the place. He is known only as the Persian." Speaking in a louder voice, "Now here is the ballet room!"
The managers prepared the to lead the way into Mme. Giry's domain. Instead of immediately following, Cecily turned to hissed something into the ears of her wooden valets. The boys nodded in response, their new hats flopping on their heads as their mistress disappear into the room. Pip and Que looked rather disappointed to be left out of the visit to the scantily clad ballerinas.
Que cast about for a place to nap. Shuffling and mumbling most dejectedly, Pip moved to address the Persian. "Pardon, sir. M'lady wood like ta have a ward w'ye some time. This evenin' a'roight?"
Nadir blinked for a moment as he tried to process the sentence. When at last he had comprehended the message he replied, "It would be my pleasure."
They proceeded to make the arrangements of the meeting. Brooke was anxious to hear them, but Anna was tugging at her cloak.
"Brooke, we have to get back to the house. It's nearly supper time and we haven't fixed Erik's dinner yet."
"You go. I'll catch up."
"You know we can't separate! The Phantom will birth a hippo."
"He doesn't have to know!"
"He'll find out and you know it. Now let's go."
"Fine." Brooke shut the column door. As she turned to follow Anna into the darkness, she wondered aloud, "Why do you suppose Cecily brought the hobbits here?"
"I don't know. Should we be suspicious?"
"They know about us."
"Holy cow." The redhead stopped dead in her tracks. "Brooke, you don't think she knows?"
"Who can say, but if she does, or if Erik suspects anything it could put her in danger."
"He won't do anything to Cecily," Anna protested.
"Anna, I know you really, really like Erik—in that way—but you can't deny what he's done or what he's capable of doing again."
"I know."
Brooke sensed her cousin's shoulders drooping beneath her worry. To lighten the mood and change the subject, the brunette quipped, "Of course, now that Cecily's around, perhaps we could convince the dear, old Ghost to let us venture to the outside world every now and then."
This was obviously said with Raoul de Chagny in mind and, therefore, did nothing, but sink Anna's spirits further.
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A/N: For anyone who didn't see White Chicks, a B.F. is not a "boyfriend" or a "brain fart." It's a "bch fit."