Once again, Raoul was up before Christine. He woke up, got out of bed, got dressed, opened the door, stubbed his toe on the chair in the hallway, and met Christine in the kitchen again.
"Come on, slowpoke, we're gonna be late!" she called to him, gathering her things.
"Oh... but it's only nine!" he stumbled.
"Yes, but we live 100 miles away. Now, I'll go now, and you come at ten. Alright?" she asked, running in circles around him, grabbing her dress and stuffing it into a bag, Raoul unable to see it.
"Alright, Chris..." he sleepily said.
Christine slipped on a pair of high-heeled ankle boots. "Okay, goodbye, then!"
"Goodbye, Chris..." he said, just before falling back asleep.
*
That evening.
Christine got out of the carriage, now in her gown after a two-hour struggle with it in the carriage. It felt nice to move her legs after ten long hours in the carriage.
She heard a familiar voice call, "Christine!" It was Meg, an adult now. She was an entire inch taller than Christine now, her long, dark hair in a bun, with curled sides perfectly introducing her blue eyes, long nose, thin wide lips, and high cheekbones.
"Meg! Is that really you?" she called in surprise.
"Come on inside, they restored this place after the little fire incident"
"Don't remind me," Christine thought.
She saw a whole crowd of people, in black, white, red, and every color in between. About half were wearing masks over their face, but one caught her eye. It was white, with thin black stripes over the cheekbones and nose, and pink dots under the eyes. The man wearing it was tall, thin, and moving toward her. By thin, I don't mean not-overweight thin, but unhealthily thin; like he hadn't eaten a good meal in weeks.
"I'll leave you two alone now" Meg said, nervously tiptoing away. Christine then realized the man in the mask was beside her.
"Hello there," Christine said nervously, "What's your name?"
"My name, is V." he stated. "Yours?"
"Christine..." she said softly. She remembered that voice from somewhere... but where? Where?
The orchestra started a lively piece. "Shall we dance?" V asked her, giving her his gloved hand.
Christine smiled, and took his hand. "We shall."
They took hands, waltzed a little, spun a bit, dipped, waltzed some more, turned, and repeated until the piece was done.
V and Christine, hand in hand, walked over to the drink table together, meeting Meg there.
She was obviously drunk. "Ahh, Christine," she bobbled, "You found somebody... how did it go? How did the dance go? Did you... dance?"
"Yes we did," V answered, for her, "And she's a wonderful dancer. Did you ever train?"
"I was a ballerina back when I worked here."
Meg smiled. "I am just gonna leave you two alone now. Bye!" she shouted, obnoxiously.
"Yes, Christine, she's right." V seductively told her. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and took her to a secluded door under the staircase.
"Where are we?" Christine asked.
"Trust me, I know my way around here."
He opened the door, lit a candle that just-so-happened to be there, and told her to sit on a cushion in the middle of the room. She did. It was unusually soft and comfortable.
"V," Christine studdered, "Can you tell me why we're here?"
V turned to face her. "Christine, I have to tell you something..."
"What?" Christine returned her Judy Garland approach, although you couldn't tell by the candle-light.
"You might hate me for it,"
"But we just met. How can I hate someone I just met?"
"Christine, this isn't the first time we've met..."
"It isn't?"
"No, it isn't, Christine." He pulled back his mask.
Christine gasped. "Angel?"