~CHAPTER NINE~



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The sun had completely set when the two gentlemen arrived at Casino de Monte-Carlo. They eventually found a spot to park and made their way to the Salle Garnier. Meeting up with King Richie and Lady Turncoat at the lobby, the couples made their way to the balcony.

Mr. Mann and Lady Turncoat looked in awe at the beautiful theatre. The gilded crowning seemed to glow with a sheen more brilliant than gold itself. They peered up to the ceiling, taking a minute to prospect all of the beautiful renaissance paintings. The striking chandelier hung gloriously. Its glass ornaments glimmered and turned, blinding the pair with its radiance.

If that wasn’t impressive to Lady Turncoat and Mr. Mann, the ceiling rose surrounding it was adorned with lyres and floral motifs, ones that matched with what hung from the chandelier itself.

King Richie and Lady Moustache were already seated in their respective seats. They chatted about the last ballet they had gone to, and how they hoped it wouldn’t be ‘another flop this year’. Looking across the house, Lady Moustache saw his father, aunt and Mr. Capgras already seated in the far booth. He tempted himself with the idea of obnoxiously waving to Mr. Capgras, but thought better of it. Instead, he just stared. His father looked baneful, even from this distance.

The house lights dimmed and the curtains rustled. Everyone was seated and murmuring, excited to see the new show. Mr. Mann sat next to Lady Moustache and Lady Turncoat next to her date.

When the curtains were rising, Lady Moustache squirmed a bit in his seat. He suddenly had memories of the first ballet he went to. Memories that hit him like a wave, one after the other. He reminisced about being carried by a blonde woman, her honey coloured eyes were a blurry recollection, but they were soothing to his psyche.

The music soared and the hidden orchestra glided and leapt with the dancers, who commanded the attention of the audience. He watched the ballerinos on the stage spring around, doing impressive feats of physicality. They made it look terribly easy.

Mr. Mann watched the men gracefully dance around, their tights were tight and didn’t leave much to his imagination.

(ahem…) He pushed his glasses up.

He unconsciously leaned forward, observing the lean men gently express themselves. He looked over to Lady Moustache, who also seemed remarkably fascinated. He observed them and thought about the theatre program he was a part of just a month ago. Not a day goes by where he doesn’t wish he could go back. But he can’t. His mother is still sick, and it is his privilege to take care of his family.

After seemingly forever, or about ten minutes, King Richie already appeared to be asleep in his seat and Lady Turncoat was hunched over picking at her nails. The music played unchanging notes, playing the same melody over and over and over…

Mr. Mann looked at Lady Moustache, who sat the same, an unchanging upright posture. Mr. Mann couldn’t help but think he looked like an incredibly well trained dog, one with a horrifically...