Her hand was warm within his own. A stark contrast of flush pink against his cool. He lead her down the corridor, down deeply into the tunnels that ran under the Palais Garnier, down into his home. He was aware of the tales her father had told her of The Angel of Music, in fact much of what he had learned about his young prodigy he had learned from Madame Giry who had initially taken the girl in so young. The Phantom did not speak to her, did not make small talk. It wasn't that he didn't want to, he just no longer knew how to address anyone in a casual sense. The man blinked, bringing himself to the present as he turned his attention back to the woman he lead.<br/><br/>She was beautiful, the slope of her neck, the way she walked. This was the first time he had brought her into his domain beneath the opera house. Usually their lessons would take place within the room they had left far behind them, but now they sunk deeper. The walls dripped with moisture that reflected the firelight from the sconces and a few rats scampered out of their way, but continued to follow behind them. Why had he mad this decision to bring her here? Perhaps it was his loneliness catching up with him over the years he had suppressed it. Perhaps in his subconscious these lessons meant something more...<br/><br/>Their decent finally ended when the steps were replaced by a canal of water that stretched further back. At their presence sconces lit themselves, the light bouncing off the near still waters.  A gondola rocked against the stones as he gently stepped aboard the boat, sweeping his cloak behind him as he offered Christine his hand once more.  He turned his gaze up to her face in waiting, his eyes a cool gold that reflected the firelight.<br/><br/>"My Lady?"