The Masque of Paris ( Phantom of the Opera )

Chapter 7 - Skull Letters

— Before, I was simply keeping an eye for my performers and crew. However, I am now jolted from that reality after Madame Giry's troubling warning. It left me in a trance for the remainder of the day, washing in and out of focus during the rehearsal. A hazy cloud of— well, exhaustion— and thoughtfulness waved over me. Try as I might, I couldn't focus on any aspect of the show. What a marvelous first day back as stage manager.

The morning waddled into afternoon, I am blessed with a moment of clarity when my closest confidant was spotted.
I reach for the blonde boy's attention
"Vincent," I call out. The mess of delicate, curly hair swishes as he faces me.
"Elodie," he replies, mocking my serious tone in his. The edges of his lips curl up.

I have no time for jokes, and almost painfully, I don't return his smile.
Clearing my throat I begin my long rehearsed question:
"I was wondering if you could wait for me until my work is done this evening. That is if you don't mind." I say stiffly.
"Relax the formality, El—" there it is again,
"we are not strangers. Of course I will."
His joker's smile fades into one of genuine.
To my surprise, he doesn't prod my reasoning further— or rather tease me further.
I give way a sigh. Maybe he's right. It wouldn't kill me to unwind the knots in my voice and head— not be so taut.

~*~

The remainder of the day was just as uneventful as the rest. That fact should have calmed my nerves, but it only filled me with unknowing dread.

Assembling my cast and crew, I review the few notes— I was able to jot down in my daze— to them to better their performances; easy fixes. Everyone remains focused and respectful— except, of course, the dancers that almost silently chitter amongst themselves, quite obviously bored with the union.

I dismiss the cast, but conduct the crew with an hour more of work to reset for tomorrow. After they are finished with sweeping and other duties, I dismiss them as well.
During this, I relay the last few notes between the head of each crews— costuming, props, scenery— and with Maestro Reyer, the Playwright and Opera Director all present providing their own snippets of wisdom to each committee.
The voice their minimal concerns, which are addressed, and I bid them goodnight as lead them through the gilded foyer to exit.
The day went off without a hitch, and while that thought crept under my skin, I was rather extremely relieved to be with my lovely work again.
Only one last thing to do.

"Monsieur Léfevre," I knock on the doorframe of his office, just set off from the foyer,
"I'm here to report today went smoothly— and I've seen out our conductor, director, and playwright."
"Ah– Mademoiselle Benóit, glad to see that you've returned to your duties without issue." He only says with half thought as he gathers scattered papers about the lavish oak desk.
"I will be locking up here shortly, just a couple things I must speak to you about."

This catches me off guard. Typically, I close the night with him, lock the doors, and waltz our separate ways home— well— used to.
I stand attentively,
"Firstly, tomorrow our patron for this season will be arriving and it is your responsibility to introduce them to our Opera."
I take a mental note as he continues.
"Secondly, our..." there's a pause, "Architect has some notes he requested me to relay to you this evening."
I sigh with great reluctance at this news of, again, the Phantom. I'm starting to wonder who the real diva is in the Opera House. Apparently it is not Marie.

"He's seen Marie's dress, and think that it blends in far too much with the scenery— she'll look like a floating head."
"How has he already seen the dress? I haven't seen the dress yet! It's not finished!" I interject, Monsieur Léfevre only calmly continues.
"He also wants you to know that set piece #8 and piece #9 are on the wrong sides of the stage and implores you to review the designs he sent at the beginning of the season."
Now it is my turn to pause.
"... very well," I respond rather begrudgingly.
"And lastly, he'd like to remind you that—"
"Box 5 is to remain empty, yes I know."
My manager raises an eyebrow at me, I stumble quickly to save face at my rude little interruption.
"Excuse me, Monsieur Léfevre— I'm just growing tired of the ghost nonsense, he's only been back for two days and I'm already at my wits end with him." I take a breath, "I don't know how you've done it all these years."