All I Asked Of You [Inara and Julia]

[julia]

Erik emerged from his bedroom, seeing both Christine and Madame Giry. He bowed lightly and approached the two, holding his hand out welcomingly. "Welcome back Christine. And Antoinette, it has been a while," he spoke with ease, placing his hands behind his back. "Before we begin conversing, would either of you ladies like a glass of wine?" Erik offered. Madame Giry shook her head no softly, sitting down on the piano bench, making sure not to sit on any of the charcoal drawings or handwritten sheets of music.

Erik walked into the other room and grabbed two glasses, one for him and one for Christine, if she wanted it. He returned with a bottle of amontillado and the glasses, setting them on the back of his piano. He looked from the wine to Christine and offered her a glass. "Would you like a glass? A glass of wine is good for you," he enticed, smiling warmly. Madame Giry cleared her throat and folded her hands in her lap, making Erik turn his attention to her.

"Erik, please calm down a bit. You're being a fine host, but you mustn't smother your guest," she explained, much as like a mother would explain how to play a game to a child. Erik nodded and smiled boyishly.

"My mistake," he laughed coyly, then turned his eyes back to Christine and took her hand in his, kissing the knuckles before speaking. "My apologies. Please, you seemed to have something you needed to speak with me about?" he told her, then folded his hands behind his back and looked at Christine.

[Inara]

Christine smiled at her longtime tutor. His nervous awkwardness and his eagerness to please held a certain charm, though she failed to understand why he was suddenly so ill at ease. After all, they had known each other for several years. It did not seem that their behavior should change so drastically simply because he wanted more than a professional relationship with her. It was painfully obvious that he was attracted to her, but the thought of being more than friends and colleagues with a man nearly twice her age was unsettling. The young musician had no idea how she was going to bear to disappoint this kind, if strange, man who had spent so many hours guiding her through her studies. But fortunately, there was currently a more pressing issue at hand.


“Maestro, I know about your letters. And I surmise that it was you who caused that curtain to fall on Signora Carlotta. Respectfully, I must request that you stop these ridiculous pranks on my behalf. A man of your genius and passion should know that music is not about who plays the lead, and that these silly intrigues merely detract from the art. Music should be abould putting on the best performance possible, and the leading role should be based on talent, not who can cause the most ruckus. Signora Carlotta is a very talented woman, though I will admit her voice has its imperfections, just like all of us,” Christine began diplomatically. “Besides, irritating the star of the show and the managers is no way to help my career! People do not like being told what to do! They are just as likely to dismiss me because of your puerile pranks as they are to make me the star!” Why would you proceed in a course of action that cheapens the beauty of the performance and could just as easily backfire?” the young vocalist asked. She was a Victorian lady; she did not raise her voice, but there was a definite note of irritation and idealistic passion in her words and tone, despite the demure sweetness that permeated her voice, even as she gave such a scolding.

[julia]

Erik fell quiet, then turned from Christine with his eyes on the ground. He shook his head and cleared his throat a bit. "As you wish," he responded softly, giving no other response. He sat down at his wax figurines, moving them into poses and setting them in specific places on the stage, making it look like a little photo graph of a play or musical in progress. His fingers moved nimbly, and he smiled very gently. A sigh escaped his lips and he looked over and saw the little brown mouse who had found a home in Erik's humble cavern. The mouse walked diligently up to his hand, which he had now laid flat for the mouse to crawl up.

"Hello, little mouse," he whispered with a calm jolliness that sounded like a tired child after a day at the circus. Madame Giry looked confused, but stood up gracefully and laid her hand on Erik's shoulder, making him look up, setting the mouse back on the desk and looking to Christine with a very flat expression.

"Christine?" he started and cleared his throat. "Would you sing a small song for me?" he asked, obviously excited, despite the flat expression on his face.