Evangeline and Emile joined them on the upper balcony shortly after. Evangeline was even more lovely up close, with her honey colored hair and large green eyes, but after seeing Christine, she seemed too... bright, almost. Like sun on the snow.

Emile, on the other hand, was like a male Christine, with his dark blue eyes and thick black curls, only with slightly stronger features and a healthy amount of stubble. He sat next to Andre with a casual impudence, reaching for the glass of alcohol that Andre had abandoned before. Wallowing in self-pity as he was, Andre had almost missed it, but when he realized what was happening, he reached out and grabbed Emile's hand.

The table went rather quiet. Andre saw Satine freeze out of the corner of his eye.

"Don't drink that." Andre said, a bit too sharply. Emile got defensive.

"Why? You aren't drinking it." Andre tried not to visibly show just how poorly this evening was going.

"I tried it and it was really bad so I spit it back out into the glass," he said quickly and quietly, hoping that Emile and Emile only would hear the explanation. The boy stared for a long moment before bursting out laughing.

"That's fantastic!" He gasped, clutching at his stomach. "Eva, Eva! He-he spit it out!" Andre snatched the glass out of Emile's hand and began to regret just not letting him drink it. He snuck a glance at the others and found twin looks of irritated exasperation on his uncle and father's faces, and a very suspicious lack of expression on Zidler. Evangeline rolled her eyes.

"Emile, stop making fun," she chided. "What was it? Wine?"

"Not wine." Andre replied emphatically. Emile took hold of Andre's wrist and pulled the glass closer, sniffing at it. He reared back dramatically.

"Definitely not wine," he agreed, making a face. "Now I'm doubly grateful. I don't know who gave you that, but they may have wanted you dead."

"Emile." Zidler interrupted. The rotund man did not look happy, which was quite a feat, considering the fact that it seemed his natural state was joviality. "Jacques has apparently decided to leave our employ."

"Really?" Emile said, suddenly inspecting his fingernails with theatrical interest. "Told you he was no good."

"Told you twice." Evangeline agreed sagely. Zidler scowled at her as the Duke and his family watched the back and forth with interest.

"Poor bastard thought he was the star," Emile said, shaking his head. "Couldn't get it out of his head. Honestly; you'd have to be deaf, blind and dumb not to realize it's the Sitar Player's story." The majority of the more in-the-know eyes glanced at the Duke, whose jaw clenched visibly. Emile continued, heedless of the growing danger.

"After all, the Sitar Player is handsome, charming, dripping with raw charisma..."

"And who's playing the Sitar Player again?" Andre asked dryly. Emile grinned and gestured to himself.

"Can we focus?" Zidler said, the very picture of disbelief and exasperation. He turned to Satine. "Satine, can you make your son focus?!"

"Son?" The Duke asked sharply, looking from Zidler to Satine to Emile. If looks could kill, the one Satine gave Zidler would have laid low an army.

"Yes." She said, obviously furious. "Emile and Christine are mine."

"Twins," Emile said proudly. "She's my other half." He grabbed a glass of wine from a passing server and took a drink. "Anyway, it's not like the Maharajah is a rounded character. I mean, Zidler played him in the last production-"

"Careful, boy," Zidler growled. Andre agreed, eying his uncle's growing outrage with apprehension. Emile simply smiled in the face of growing ill-feeling, and Andre was amazed at the amount of obliviousness.

Yet he wasn't actually going to do anything until he saw the look on Satine's face. She looked... terrified. It made him feel a bit sick, to see that look on her face, and to know why.

"Do you think you could show me around?" Andre asked, trying to make the whole thing stop. It probably wasn't the best way to do it, but anything, anything was better than this.

"Andre..." His father said quietly, but Emile and Zidler had already pounced on the idea.

"Yes, yes, Emile! Show the boy around!" Zidler said, swinging abruptly back into boisterousness. Emile grinned, stood, and grabbed Andre's arm.

"I don't think that's appropriate." Andre's father said pointedly, but Emile waved his hand dismissively.

"You're in the Moulin Rouge, Sir!" he said briskly. "It'd be a crime not to dance with a pretty girl." He paused, considering Andre for a moment. "Or a boy, I suppose. Not judging. Not my cup of tea, personally, but-"

"Nevermind." Andre said, trying to sit back down as Emile continued to ramble about sexual proclivities that he wasn't in a position to judge. "I think I'll just sit here, quietly."

"No no, come on." Emile dragged him to his feet. "No, keep the hat. Come on, hurry up, Christine's going to start singing soon and it'll be impossible for you to find a dance partner after the music starts up again. Don't drag your feet, you lump." Ignoring the affronted looks of the Duke and Johann, Emile pulled Andre away from the table and down the stairs towards the main dance hall.

"Not sure if it was your intention," Emile said, still not letting go of Andre's wrist as they got closer to the din of the crowd. "But thanks for getting me out of there."

"It was definitely my intention." Andre muttered. The dark haired boy laughed and stopped in the doorway, turning to straighten Andre's jacket and bowtie. "Was in your intention to antagonize my uncle?"

"In every sense of the word." Emile replied simply, and his dark blue eyes went a little cold.

Wait, what?

Before Andre could respond, Emile reached out into the crowd and seemed to pull a tiny, pretty brunette out of thin air.

"Madeline!" He said, back to being cheerful. "This is Andre, and he needs a dance partner. Care to do the honors?" The woman grinned up at him, her sparkly American flapper style dress glittering in the half-light as she took Andre's arm and pulled him close.

"Why, I'd be delighted." She said. Emile winked at Andre, and all three pushed out into the keening riot of color and sound together just as the opening chord of a new song echoed through and the audience quieted slightly.

"Regrets collect like old friends

Here to relive your darkest moments

I can see no way, I can see no way

And all of the ghouls come out to play..."

Andre looked up to the stage so quickly his neck shot with pain in protest.

That dark, low voice - the antithesis of Evangeline's sweet soprano - belonged to Christine. She stood on the stage, not dancing, just standing and looking out at the crowd. The spotlight made her skin seem almost luminous, her hair and dress all the darker. It made Andre's breath catch painfully.

"And every demon wants his pound of flesh

But I like to keep some things to myself

I like to keep my issues strong

It's always darkest before the dawn"

The drums began to pound and Madeline grabbed his hands. He broke himself out of his reverie and grinned, spinning her across the dance floor as the beat picked up.

"And I've been a fool and I've been blind

I can never leave the past behind

I can see no way, I can see no way

I'm always dragging that horse around"

"Look at the little rich boy!" Andre turned in surprise to Emile dipping some clearly older, clearly rich woman. "He can dance!" Madeline laughed, and despite the fact that it was a bit embarrassing, Andre laughed too. The whole atmosphere was so wild that it was impossible to get angry.

"All of his questions such a mournful sound

Tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground

I like to keep my issues strong

It's always darkest before the dawn"

Again, just like before, the crowd picked up the chorus, but this time, it was more respectful, less bawdy. More like backup singers than a drunken audience.

"Shake it out, shake it out!

Shake it out, shake it out!

Ooh woah!

Shake it out, Shake it out!

Shake it out, shake it out!

Oo woah!

And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back

So shake him off!

Oo woah!"

Madeline was singing with her as they danced, though honestly it wasn't any dance Andre had been actually taught. It was a play-by-ear, more twirling and spinning and wild, thoughtless movement than anything else. Andre saw very brief flashes of Emile and his older dance partner, but more than anything it was him and Madeline.

"And I am done with my graceless heart

So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart

'Cause I like to keep my issues strong

It's always darkest before the dawn!

"Shake it out, shake it out!

Shake it out, shake it out!

Ooh woah!

Shake it out, shake it out!

Shake it out, shake it out!

Ooh woah!

And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back

So shake him off!

Ooh woah!"

The beat grew a little slower, but the dancing didn't. At some point, Andre's hat had flown off, but a hand reached out and placed it on Madeline's head. She spun closer to him, so that there was almost no space between them, her arms about his neck and a wicked smile on her face.

"And I'm damned if I do and damned if I don't!

So here's to drinks in the dark, at the end of my rope

And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope!

It's a shot in the dark, and right at my throat,"

His heart pounded furiously, though whether it was from the dancing or from the proximity was quite beyond Andre to figure out at this point. Her hands cupped his throat and her hips swayed an inch away from his own. He swallowed hard, but couldn't bring himself to look away from her rich brown eyes.

"Looking for heaven found the devil in me

(Ooh woah!)

Looking for heaven found the devil in me

(Oo woah!)

Well, what the hell, I'm gonna let it happen

To me, ooh!"

Just like before, the audience exploded with sound and movement. Rather than dance, they simply jumped, arms in the air, screaming out the chorus. Madeline did the same, still outrageously close, until Andre finally just gave in and started jumping too, much to her appreciative laughter.

"Shake it out, shake it out!

Shake it out, shake it out!

Oo woah!

Shake it out, shake it out!

Shake it out, shake out!

Oo woah!

And it's hard to dance with the devil on your back

So shake him off!

Oo woah!"

Andre wrapped his arms around Madeline's waist and spun her around, and she laughed and laughed, her arms still around his neck. Andre stumbled to a halt facing the stage and found himself gasping for air and looking up at Christine.

She was leading the audience in one last rendition of the chorus, before sliding into wordless vocals as the music quieted and the audience began to sway rather than flail and grind. The lights dimmed dramatically, black and red confetti fell from the ceiling, and a new, slow, soft tune began to play. Christine stood tall and proud on the stage as the spotlight became the only light in the hall. She looked beautiful, radiant, like something out of a dream.

Andre couldn't stop staring, and watched in fascination as she began to sing again, slower and softer this time.

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness stirs and wakes imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Helpless to resist the notes I write

For I compose the music of the night."

He was staring again, but he wasn't the only one, not by a long shot. No one danced, no one sang along. He felt Madeline's arm wrap around his waist and her chin hook on his shoulder, but when he glanced at her, she was watching Christine with as much rapt attention as he was.

"Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor

Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender

Turn your face away from the garish light of day

Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light

And listen to the music of the night."

Andre found himself unable to really think. He thought this might be what being drugged or drunk felt like. Everything was oddly hazy and moving was suddenly too much of a bother. All he wanted to do was stand and stare and listen. Mostly listen.

"Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams

Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before

Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar..."

The note hung in the air, high and clear. A collective sigh hissed through the hall in the moment of silence after the note faded and the music paused.

"And you'll live as you've never lived before."

The music began again, more strings than brass. Christine's eyes were closed as she gestured gracefully, a smile gracing her features.

"Slowly, deftly, music shall caress you

Hear it, feel it, secretly possess you

Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind

In the darkness that you know you cannot fight

The darkness of the music of the night"

A piano began to play with the strings as Christine raised her arms delicately, gesturing out and around.

"Let your mind start a journey to a strange new world

Leave all thoughts of the live you knew before

Let your soul take you where you long to be...!"

The word echoed triumphantly through the hall, and again, there was silence. The audience hung on her every note, and despite the tension, Andre felt oddly relaxed.

"Only then can you belong to me."

The band began again, and Christine's expression and manner changed subtly. It became less... aloof, and more sensual. Andre swallowed hard as her dark, smoky eyes flickered across the hall before landing on him.

"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication.

Touch me, trust me,

Savor each sensation.

Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in,

To the power of the music that I write..."

She's singing at you, not to you, idiot.

"The power of the music of the night!"

With that final crescendo, the music swelled, the drums beat, and the audience began to applaud. It was slow, as if they were coming out of a trace, but like the beginnings of a rainstorm that became a downpour, it became deafening. She bowed, smiling wide and bright.

"She's good, isn't she?" Madeline said directly into Andre's ear, so that she would be heard over the din. Andre nodded, staring after Christine as she walked off the stage without preamble. "She doesn't usually sing. She likes fancy pants stuff like writing and painting; doesn't usually fit with the tone." She shrugged. "But the audience likes it. Makes her more mysterious." Andre nodded slowly before turning back to her. He smiled.

"Thank you for the dance, Mademoiselle," he said, and Madeline smiled an unbearably sweet smile.

"It was my pleasure."

Andre took her hand and grinned.

"Want to go again?"

()()()

Emile appeared shortly after that to drag Andre back up to the balcony. Andre was rather sad to see the place go, not just because he'd been having so much fun dancing with Madeline, but because he'd been half-hoping that Christine would appear again. She never did.

"We'll give you a few days, Zidler," the Duke was saying icily when Andre and Emile got to the upper floor. "But if you cannot find a replacement by then, we won't waste any more time or money." Zidler nodded frantically, and glared at Emile, clearly laying the blame on him for all the troubles. If Emile was at all guilty about it, he didn't show it.

"Here's your boy!" He said, lightly shoving Andre back towards his family. "He danced like a dream." Andre rolled his eyes and avoided the eyes of his father and uncle.

"I'm sure he did." Zidler said, sounding unamused. "Your Grace, would you like to come back tomorrow and see what we can show you? I'm sure you'll be impressed."

"Hmm..." The Duke considered, frowning. "Very well. Tomorrow."