Continuing to hum beneath her breath, she moved about the halls of the building with a practiced ease, no need to look for her steps. Every crack, every crooked stair, every low-hanging beam she was intimately familiar with. These were the halls she'd been walking since her father died, these stone walls holding every secret, every insecurity she'd ever harbored, whispered into the rafters for no one else to hear but needing to be said. This was the place she'd used to move on with her life when all seemed lost, with dance used as her outlet to express what she couldn't otherwise voice. All her frustrations, her hurt, the feeling of hopelessness and being completely alone in the world...it all went away when she was working her way across that stage. Every twirl, jump, drop and long line, all told two stories: the production...and her life and all that came with it.<br/><br/>Her humming only stopped when she went to open the door, hand turning the knob as her mind drifted to the private lesson ahead of her. Thinking back on it, Christine couldn't remember when the lessons had started or even why they had. Giry had been the one to bring her together with her teacher, but beyond that she had no idea what had caused her to be chosen, especially as she'd never be lead in an opera so the lessons were almost completely pointless. Perhaps it was to save the ears of her peers while she hummed the music to the dances while dancing through the halls, rehearsing at all hours to make sure her movements were seamless.<br/><br/>Skirts whispering about her form as she closed the door behind her, steps taking her near silent to her usual seat, the sheet music placed on a stand in front of her. Posture painfully straight, the corset keeping her from slouching, her ankles crossed as she adjusted her dress about her legs, smoothing out the simple fabrics so they wouldn't wrinkle before she had to leave for dinner. If she had to hear anymore critique about her dresses looking mussed, the woman wasn't sure what she'd do, but her sanity didn't need another blow when her possessions were already far simpler than others.<br/><br/>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?"