She startles slightly at the sound of his voice, a result of her nerves, but she turns to the mirror with a smile.
"Of course, Master. Please, enter."
She stands, her skirts rustling as she does so, and approaches the mirror, waiting for it to slide into some unseen slot in the wall. The mechanism still fascinates her, a testament to his wondrous skill and genius.
As the mirror moves away, she smiles again. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today. I know I am only Carlotta's understudy and that she is loathe to miss another production, but I do wish to be prepared."
This is the first practice session where he's been in her dressing room. He's not entirely sure what had influenced him to approach her before. (Not true. He knows exactly what it was, but is loathe to admit it.)
He steps through the gap in the wall, taking in the room for a brief moment.
A nod. "Of course." He doesn't quite wave a dismissive hand, but his tone may indicate he might have, "You needn't worry about Carlotta." It's vague and possibly threatening, though he doesn't actually have any plans to do anything at the moment.
She notes his comment about Carlotta with a slight frown, but he leaves no room for questions and, as she already wants to ask several questions of him later, she decides it best to leave it for now. He seems mildly uncomfortable to be standing in the room with her and, she must admit, it does feel strange. Still, it is an improvement over singing to a faceless angel or a voice behind a mirror.
As instructed, she had worked her way through her breathing exercises and scales until he deemed her ready to move on to some of the more complicated pieces. As she had been in rehearsals for several hours already, her lesson is fairly short, a little less than an hour, so as not to tax her voice though she feels he might have continued to push her had her fatigue from the day not begun to show in her body. Her voice had still been strong enough but he had needed to correct things like posture with increasing frequency.
He had seemed to be less than comfortable standing in her dressing room throughout the lesson and she has no doubt that he plans to take his leave immediately, which will not do. The lesson had always been secondary to having him here, where she can try to engage with him as a person.
“I am going to have some tea. Perhaps...perhaps you would care to join me? I have some lovely biscuits from the pâtisserie just down the Rue Scribe.”
His comment about Carlotta was primarily redirection, not an indication that he had any desire to harm the woman. He needs Christine to focus on her singing.
The lesson goes well, though he would have preferred to stay behind the wall. Or take her back to his space. There is much potential for interruption with him being in here. And the many ears that lurk in the corridors might overhear and wonder where he's gone. There is also the fact that he's in this room with Christine. Down in his lair, it's comfortable. He knows that space. This is but a small room with very little space between them.
And now she's inviting him to have tea... "I..." he pauses, uncertain how to respond to such a request. "I - I beg your pardon?" he asks, curious really. Because - why?
He looks like he may bolt at the slightest provocation so she takes a step back as she gestures at the tea service on the console table against the wall behind her. A small, well-used portable stove sat to one side, ready to be lit to heat the water.
"I often take tea after our lessons and I thought it may be nice for you to join me tonight."
She takes another backward step then turns and strikes a match, lighting the little kerosene contraption and setting the small metal pot to heat. Carefully, she adds the water and turns back to him, half wondering if he'll have made his escape while her back was turned.
He hasn't, not that he doesn't look like the idea hadn't crossed his mind. She almost feels bad. She hasn't trapped him here, but he looks for all the world like she has. Though, as she had planned this part, perhaps she sort of has trapped him, or at least intended to.
Feeling guilty, her smile falters and she glances down at her hands, clasped at her waist before her.
"If you wish to leave, I do understand."
She can't quite keep the disappointment from her voice, but being an actress means she does pretty well. It isn't as though she can blame him for not exactly trusting her. The last time they had met in person, she had stripped him of his mask.
He's startled more than anything. Nervous. He's never been asked to tea. He's never been asked to anything. Even when working for the Shah, he was mostly left to himself, even for meals.
Curiously, he watches her as she begins to make the tea. He makes several glances toward the mirror, pondering the idea of leaving before she's finished. It would be a simple thing to do. He could disappear back down to his personal space and continue to work on his music.
"Are you frequently interrupted during tea?" If the answer is yes, he's far more likely to depart swiftly.
His question surprises her, at least at first. Then the reason for it dawns and she shakes her head, once. "I'm rarely interrupted but if I am, it would be Meg or one of the other dancers. And Mme. Giry has called all the dancers for a special rehearsal. They will be occupied for at least an hour, I should think."
She hazards a step towards him, her body language as non-threatening as she can make it. "The door is locked, if that puts you at ease. Anyone who did choose to visit would not be able to simply walk in."
With a sweet, sincere smile, she gestures at the chair currently sitting empty before her vanity. "Please, sit? This is but a small way for me to say thank you."
He's still fairly nervous until she mentions that the door is locked. The nerves ease a little, but he's not entirely comfortable. He doesn't typically spend this much time with other people. There hasn't been reason to before.
A little shake of his head. Then he waves to the chair. "No, mademoiselle. You should have the chair." He would not consider taking the seat from her - that is quite impolite.
"I am happy to sit on the chaise, Angel. It is no trouble."
She moves back to the little pot to check the water. It has just started to boil but should be sufficiently hot for tea. She pours the water into the kettle.
"It will just be another minute or so."
She fidgets nervously, suddenly doubting the plan that had seemed a sure thing earlier. "Do...Is there are a particular way you take your tea?"
She continues to thwart his attempts to maintain his proximity to the means of escape egress. Again, he declines the chair, explaining that he's fine to stand. And he watches her work on the tea.
"If you have brewed it quite strong, then a small amount of sugar. Otherwise, plain is fine."
The chair isn't worth his changing his mind so she lets it go, turning back to the tea and pouring them each a cup. It's a delicate tea so she forgoes the sugar in his and hands him the cup and saucer.
She, too, opts to stand, blowing lightly on the surface of her drink. Earlier, this had seemed the perfect way to get to know her maestro but now she finds herself at a loss for words. It had been much easier to communicate in writing. No wonder he uses notes to deal with the managers.
"Thank you again for agreeing to meet for a lesson today. I feel much more comfortable with the score." She smiles and takes a sip of her tea. "Have you seen any of the rehearsals? What do you think of the production so far?"
He gives her a polite nod when she hands him the tea. The scent is quite nice and he studies it a moment. Different from what he typically drinks on his own, but nice.
Quite honestly - using notes to communicate with the managers is the more efficient option. He's rather certain those buffoons would faint in the floor if he actually showed up in person to speak with them.
"You're welcome. I'm glad. You should not doubt your talent, Mademoiselle." He takes a drink from the tea cup and tips his head at her question. "Regrettably I have been otherwise occupied and have yet to see more than a number or two from the production. But I do plan to watch when I have the time." And now that Christine should be performing more regularly. No, of course that isn't why he'd skipped the early rehearsals - why ever would anyone think that?
Her cheeks go faintly pink at his words and she nods. He's told her this before, of course, on days where a song was especially frustrating or a note seemed unreachable, but for some reason it had been different when he had only been a voice. "Yes, Angel," she replies, and takes a sip of her own tea.
She's surprised that he hasn't been to rehearsals, but of course he wouldn't spend every moment in the rafters or on catwalks, would he? Though that does make her wonder what else he may do to fill his days. He had mentioned going out earlier, yes, but he made it clear that venturing out of doors in the daytime was not a habit.
The urge to ask is like a weight on her tongue but she holds back. He's obviously not comfortable here and she doubts it would take much to send him back through the mirror. "I do not know as much as you, of course, but they seem to be going well so far," she says, sticking to a safer topic. Then, hesitantly, "If it is more comfortable for you, I would be happy to take my lessons in your home. I would have done so today but I thought...after..."
Her face turns a deeper pink this time as she's not sure how to finish that sentence. After he had taken her below and she had snatched away his mask and run from him. Not exactly a scenario she thinks he would like to repeat. She drops her gaze to her cup, faint wisps of steam still visible rising from within. "I am sorry about what happened, Master. I behaved childishly."
The production has just begun, so there haven't been many rehearsals to see yet. He has seen a couple of them. And he has plans to see more. He'll need to in order to follow Christine's progress.
"We shall see how this goes, but we may return to my space. The acoustic nature of the stone is better than the dressing room." He sips the tea again. He perks up at her apology. "Indeed you did, Mademoiselle, but we shall put that in the past assuming you have chosen not to repeat the behavior."
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bedazzledoperacape) wrote2020-02-08 10:27 pm
no subject
"Of course, Master. Please, enter."
She stands, her skirts rustling as she does so, and approaches the mirror, waiting for it to slide into some unseen slot in the wall. The mechanism still fascinates her, a testament to his wondrous skill and genius.
As the mirror moves away, she smiles again. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with me today. I know I am only Carlotta's understudy and that she is loathe to miss another production, but I do wish to be prepared."
no subject
He steps through the gap in the wall, taking in the room for a brief moment.
A nod. "Of course." He doesn't quite wave a dismissive hand, but his tone may indicate he might have, "You needn't worry about Carlotta." It's vague and possibly threatening, though he doesn't actually have any plans to do anything at the moment.
"Begin your warm-up, please."
no subject
As instructed, she had worked her way through her breathing exercises and scales until he deemed her ready to move on to some of the more complicated pieces. As she had been in rehearsals for several hours already, her lesson is fairly short, a little less than an hour, so as not to tax her voice though she feels he might have continued to push her had her fatigue from the day not begun to show in her body. Her voice had still been strong enough but he had needed to correct things like posture with increasing frequency.
He had seemed to be less than comfortable standing in her dressing room throughout the lesson and she has no doubt that he plans to take his leave immediately, which will not do. The lesson had always been secondary to having him here, where she can try to engage with him as a person.
“I am going to have some tea. Perhaps...perhaps you would care to join me? I have some lovely biscuits from the pâtisserie just down the Rue Scribe.”
no subject
The lesson goes well, though he would have preferred to stay behind the wall. Or take her back to his space. There is much potential for interruption with him being in here. And the many ears that lurk in the corridors might overhear and wonder where he's gone. There is also the fact that he's in this room with Christine. Down in his lair, it's comfortable. He knows that space. This is but a small room with very little space between them.
And now she's inviting him to have tea... "I..." he pauses, uncertain how to respond to such a request. "I - I beg your pardon?" he asks, curious really. Because - why?
no subject
"I often take tea after our lessons and I thought it may be nice for you to join me tonight."
She takes another backward step then turns and strikes a match, lighting the little kerosene contraption and setting the small metal pot to heat. Carefully, she adds the water and turns back to him, half wondering if he'll have made his escape while her back was turned.
He hasn't, not that he doesn't look like the idea hadn't crossed his mind. She almost feels bad. She hasn't trapped him here, but he looks for all the world like she has. Though, as she had planned this part, perhaps she sort of has trapped him, or at least intended to.
Feeling guilty, her smile falters and she glances down at her hands, clasped at her waist before her.
"If you wish to leave, I do understand."
She can't quite keep the disappointment from her voice, but being an actress means she does pretty well. It isn't as though she can blame him for not exactly trusting her. The last time they had met in person, she had stripped him of his mask.
no subject
Curiously, he watches her as she begins to make the tea. He makes several glances toward the mirror, pondering the idea of leaving before she's finished. It would be a simple thing to do. He could disappear back down to his personal space and continue to work on his music.
"Are you frequently interrupted during tea?" If the answer is yes, he's far more likely to depart swiftly.
no subject
She hazards a step towards him, her body language as non-threatening as she can make it. "The door is locked, if that puts you at ease. Anyone who did choose to visit would not be able to simply walk in."
With a sweet, sincere smile, she gestures at the chair currently sitting empty before her vanity. "Please, sit? This is but a small way for me to say thank you."
no subject
A little shake of his head. Then he waves to the chair. "No, mademoiselle. You should have the chair." He would not consider taking the seat from her - that is quite impolite.
no subject
She moves back to the little pot to check the water. It has just started to boil but should be sufficiently hot for tea. She pours the water into the kettle.
"It will just be another minute or so."
She fidgets nervously, suddenly doubting the plan that had seemed a sure thing earlier. "Do...Is there are a particular way you take your tea?"
no subject
escapeegress. Again, he declines the chair, explaining that he's fine to stand. And he watches her work on the tea."If you have brewed it quite strong, then a small amount of sugar. Otherwise, plain is fine."
no subject
She, too, opts to stand, blowing lightly on the surface of her drink. Earlier, this had seemed the perfect way to get to know her maestro but now she finds herself at a loss for words. It had been much easier to communicate in writing. No wonder he uses notes to deal with the managers.
"Thank you again for agreeing to meet for a lesson today. I feel much more comfortable with the score." She smiles and takes a sip of her tea. "Have you seen any of the rehearsals? What do you think of the production so far?"
no subject
Quite honestly - using notes to communicate with the managers is the more efficient option. He's rather certain those buffoons would faint in the floor if he actually showed up in person to speak with them.
"You're welcome. I'm glad. You should not doubt your talent, Mademoiselle." He takes a drink from the tea cup and tips his head at her question. "Regrettably I have been otherwise occupied and have yet to see more than a number or two from the production. But I do plan to watch when I have the time." And now that Christine should be performing more regularly. No, of course that isn't why he'd skipped the early rehearsals - why ever would anyone think that?
no subject
She's surprised that he hasn't been to rehearsals, but of course he wouldn't spend every moment in the rafters or on catwalks, would he? Though that does make her wonder what else he may do to fill his days. He had mentioned going out earlier, yes, but he made it clear that venturing out of doors in the daytime was not a habit.
The urge to ask is like a weight on her tongue but she holds back. He's obviously not comfortable here and she doubts it would take much to send him back through the mirror. "I do not know as much as you, of course, but they seem to be going well so far," she says, sticking to a safer topic. Then, hesitantly, "If it is more comfortable for you, I would be happy to take my lessons in your home. I would have done so today but I thought...after..."
Her face turns a deeper pink this time as she's not sure how to finish that sentence. After he had taken her below and she had snatched away his mask and run from him. Not exactly a scenario she thinks he would like to repeat. She drops her gaze to her cup, faint wisps of steam still visible rising from within. "I am sorry about what happened, Master. I behaved childishly."
no subject
"We shall see how this goes, but we may return to my space. The acoustic nature of the stone is better than the dressing room." He sips the tea again. He perks up at her apology. "Indeed you did, Mademoiselle, but we shall put that in the past assuming you have chosen not to repeat the behavior."