"Is that really all you have?" Jules questioned as he watched Sorelli unpack her scant clothes.
Meg shoot him a quick glare before lightly slapping his wrist. "Jules!"
"What?" He whined.
Sorelli offered a small smile. "It's fine Jules, my father…" She shot a glance at Raoul to confirm which she was talking about. "Sort of came from a rougher time…"
"It's alright, we have seamstresses here, we can get you an all new wardrobe." Meg chimed as she gently patted Sorelli's back.
She turned to Meg with raised brows and a dropped lip. "You have on call seamstresses?"
Meg rolled her eyes in the other direction before speaking. "We make a lot of costumes."
When the initial shock wore off, Sorelli smiled softly and nodded. "Thank you… You don't have to…"
"Erik would want us to."
Raoul remained silent as simply placed his chest in a closet, without taking anything out. Sorelli turned and noticed before meeting his gaze for a moment.
"I'm not staying long anyway…" He stated, shutting the doors.
Sorelli's eyes downcast before nodding. "You have a point…"
In an attempt to break the awkwardness, Meg stepped closer. "Dinner is still being prepared, but chef hasn't started desert yet. Any requests?"
Sorelli shook her head but Raoul looked at her. "Vanilla, vanilla macarons."
Meg smiled and nodded. "Vanilla macarons it is." As she went to the telephone, Sorelli turned to Raoul with a sullen expression.
"If you're going to live with them, they should know your favorite food." He spoke.
Jules hopped and clung to Sorelli's arm. "My favorite food is fairy floss!"
"That's not a food, Jules, it's a sweet and it doesn't even count as a desert." Meg informed as she hung up the phone.
Jules narrowed his expression and puffed out his cheeks with a light whine, making Sorelli giggle into her hand.
"You look like a balloon." She mused quietly.
Jules released the air with a hiss similar to steam before dramatically throwing his head up, puffing his chest out and strutting out of the room. Meg resounded Sorelli's laughter as she went after him.
"Dinner will be done in fifteen minutes, just head to the penthouse and go straight through the door in the waiting room." Meg stated as she followed her son.
Sorelli grinned before nodding. After they both left the room Raoul looked at her.
"Quite the characters they are." He remarked as he walked to the washroom.
"Yes…" Sorelli mumbled before going to her closet, to pull out her best clothes; a white frilly blouse and a plain brown skirt, then going behind a screen to change. She hung up her mourning hat and veil as well as her mother's red felt scarf that started wearing down in the middle, her black dress she folded and put into a laundry basket. She turned to the gold plated long mirror to stare at herself, wearing but simple cotton bloomers, being unable to afford stockings, as well as a stretched corset that could barely tighten around her undernourished body. While not living in dire conditions for most of her life as lower-class, she still showed to be sickly.
She compared what she looked like to Meg and Jules, who have lived their lives in her blood father's luxury. Meg's thick golden curls, nimble body and clear complexion showed she surely was a pinnacle of high society. Even with Jules's deformity, he was energetic with a robust voice and a sort of eloquent childishness. Sorelli stared at her face to try and picture herself adored with cosmetics; her cheeks in a pink rogue with scarlet lips and painted eyelids, her hair done in curls before being put up in a gold encircled bun, around her neck a thick golden chain with diamonds glimmering like raindrops, and finally a long, extravagant dress of red, made of delicate Chinese silk adored with stitches of gold. She shook the illusion out of her head in shame then sighed, even if she technically came from that world, though being forcibly pushed out, believing she could never truly fit in.
She slid her blouse over her, pulled up and tightened her skirt before stepping out. Raoul was wiping his face and hair with a thick towel before looking at her.
"Your turn…" He murmured softly as he folded his towel and hung it onto the bedframe.
Sorelli nodded and began to walk to the bathroom but paused. "Father… Since I have time before dinner, may I go exploring?"
Raoul turned a quick glance at her. "I'm sure he'll be fine with that… As am I."
She turned her gaze down before nodding. After she washed her hands and splashed her face, Sorelli walked out of the door and shut it behind her. Taking a deep sigh, she smoothed out her skirt before walking the halls, which kept with the gothic interior but was colored red. There were other apartments around her, presumably of the same size and richness of the current she stayed in, where she presumed other freaks stayed, whether or not this meant they were of more importance or had higher "power", she didn't know. She started to walk to where the elevators were before a door swung open without warning.
She let out a little squeak before stopping herself and taking an immediate step back. A light footstep was heard as the door shut again. It was Stewart, the young driver of African descent with bone pale splotches all on his face, and now without his hat Sorelli could see it also extended to his curly hair. He was carrying a birdcage that had a fat pigeon sitting beside a small, sparrow, but they seemed to not be disturbed by each other, before turning to Sorelli, realizing that he almost hit her.
"Sorry Mademoiselle Vicomtess." He bowed slightly, his voice clearer, sounding more youthful. "I didn't know you were there."
"It's fine, you just startled me…" She stuttered, folding her arms and looking down. "And you don't need to call me Vicomtess, if anything you can just call me Mademoiselle Sorelli."
"Very well, Mademoiselle Sorelli." He turned his head to the side slightly and stepped forward. "Are you sure you're alright?"
Sorelli looked up sighing. "Yes, sorry, it's just… I just met my…" She stopped herself. "Mr. Y."
"He's really something isn't he?" Stewart smiled. "I owe him a lot, actually almost all of us do." Stewart placed the cage down, with the birds not even reacting. "A lot of us freaks, he picked up from the streets, like me, and gave us jobs, or came from other freak shows where they weren't treated well. Heck orphanages call us when there are orphans with deformities so couples can adopt them and bring them here."
Sorelli felt her eyes widen as she uncrossed her arms. "Really?"
"Yup, I ran away from my orphanage and he, Miss Meg and the other freaks took me in," He beamed brightly. "He taught me how to do magic, to build tricks and, well, to drive." He accompanied the statement with closed eyes and a laugh.
Sorelli felt her smile grow as he laughed. "That's amazing."
Stewart nodded firmly. "By the way, you didn't really mention why you were here, Mr. Y only said you'd be staying with us."
Silence overcame Sorelli as she turned to the side, and hugged herself, unsure whether or not to tell him.
Stewart noticed and looked away to pick his birdcage up. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I'll leave you be if you wish."
"No." She stated looking back at him. "I… I enjoyed talking to you and I hope we can be friends… I'm just not sure if Mr. Y will allow me to tell you…"
A slight smile graced Stewart's lips with understanding. "Very well, Mademoiselle, thank you for speaking with me." He bowed lightly before turning, as his birds squawked.
"Oh, and what are the birds for?"
"I'm going to practice a new routine for Mr. Y!"
While Sorelli was outside, Raoul shook his damp hair and sat on his bed, thinking about the fancy meal ahead. He recalled the fine foods he ate back at Chateau de Chagny, back when the years were happy with Christine. They would sit at a hand carved, one-of-a-kind, mahogany table with matching chairs, eating foie gras on China with silverware, as well as having champagne in a silver chalice. Raoul felt his mouth watered as he thought of a drink.
Because of the business of the days and lack of wealth, he didn't have time to crave it, but now, being in a magnificent building with a commercial kitchen, no doubt had some alcohol in it. He gauged on how long it took for the elevator to go down all the way, as the biggest kitchens were always on the first floor. He could slip in and out, grabbing some whisky or maybe even vodka, and have a couple sips before dinner. He practically jumped up to his wardrobe, but as he flung it open and saw the locked chest staring back at him. He slunk back onto the bed, staring back up at the ceiling.
"Whatever happened to me? What did I let happen to myself?"
"Father?" She called, the hair framing her face glimmering from dampness.
He turned to her, exhaling heavily. "Yes?"
"Are you alright?"
"Yes…" Raoul replied standing up, then offering his hand. "Let's go to dinner…"
Sorelli took his hand as they walked out into the hall, before going to one of the elevators. A freak with pale skin and black eyes dressed in overalls turned a single pupil towards the pair.
"Going up or down?" He asked.
"Up, Mr. Y invited us to dinner."
They made their quick ascent before walking back into the waiting room. When the elevator shut and they approached the stain glass door. Raoul glanced at his daughter and gestured at the door, still hesitant to dine with the man who tried to murder him. Sorelli stepped forward, unquestioning, and knocked.
"Come in." Erik's voice spoke.