<span style="color: #800080">Just as her lips parted to sing again, she faltered, the sensation of being watched causing her to glance up and away from her music. Was he already there? Quickly standing, her eyes curiously looking about, her voice light, "Monsieur?"</span><br/><br/>He watched her for a breath more as she called out. He had been watching her movements, the way even the most mundane tasks were done with such elegance, such grace. The Phantom dare not make his student wait any longer as he lit one of the sconces behind the one way mirror. The subtle outline of his features played in the glass as though he were in fact a ghost. How he wish.<br/><br/>"Come, tonight we work," he stated, his voice like a distant rumble, a purring echo in the corridor behind the glass. The Phantom wore a crackling porcelain mask covering the right side of his face, golden filigree swirled from the eye hole that held the matching golden gaze that pierced through the mirror door.<br/><br/>Over the years of having watched countless people come in and out of the Palais Garnier , none of which spiked his muse as much as the only living descendant of Gustave Daaé a famous violinist. He recalled hearing a few pieces of his work in other Theaters, and always marveled at the ingenious creativity. To think he had left his daughter at such a young age...<br/><br/>Slowly reaching the man slid the mirror and held his hand out to Christine. An invitation, that would be foolish to not accept. After all he was grooming her to take lead. After all, there was only so much of Carlotta's screeching that his sensitive ears could manage. His golden eyes smiled through the flickering shadows of his mask as the firelight danced behind him.<br/><br/>"Come," he beckoned again, his voice like a sweet low melody, welcoming her in.