The Dancer's Secret (Phantom of the Opera Phanfiction)

Daroga/Nadir

Erik

I stood in front of his door, waiting for the courage to knock. Daroga had always been very welcoming towards me, excluding the times he chased me across Persia trying to arrest me. But that was put behind us now and I liked to think that we were somewhat friends.

Before I could knock, the door swung open revealing my old friend. He was average height and his dark hair seemed to gather more and more grays each time I saw him. His stubble had grown into a short gray beard and a smile broke onto his face when he saw my mask.

"Erik! Come, come in!" He said, opening the door wider and stepping aside. I walked in, taking a look around the place. Nothing had changed.

"Daroga." I said, bowing my head as a greeting.

"Oh don't be so formal my friend! I didn't call you 'Phantom' now did I? I fully expect you to call me Nadir."

"Of course, Nadir." I took off my cloak and hat, hanging them on the coat hanger by the door before making myself comfortable in the armchair.

"I'll put the kettle on and we will talk about why you are here. Speaking from experience you never come just to visit and talk like old friends. There's always something." Daroga walked into the kitchen, setting the kettle on the stove to boil before coming and sitting in the seat across from me.

"Well that's the thing, Daroga-" He threw me a glare and I quickly corrected myself. "I mean, Nadir." Not many people were able to treat me like that or get me to correct myself, but Daroga had his ways with me.

"Yes... What is 'the thing' that we must talk about?" He asked. His Persian accent was just and  thick as I remembered. I sighed, trying to put my thoughts into words.

"I don't know why I've come today."

"Is it because you needed a dose of friendship from your favorite Persian?" He joked.

"No. I just felt that since I didn't have anything else going on I would come see my old friend."

"Now Erik, we both know that is absolute, pardon my French, bullshit." I glared at him. "Now tell me. What is going on with that soprano of yours?" My instant reaction was Clementine but no, he of course meant Christine.

"Christine is being courted by some fop! He is a count. The Viscount de Chagny. She is apparently in love with him! It's absolutely preposterous if you ask me."

"Ah yes. But you don't seem so upset about this? When did it happen?" I thought back.

"Around three or four weeks ago?" He furrowed his eyebrows.

"Well, then that can't possibly be the only thing that's bothering you! You would have come to me weeks ago to complain. What else have you been doing?" I rolled my eyes at him.

"Well, I redecorated a bit. There's a new play being preformed tomorrow night, I bought a new suit and... I've started giving music lessons to another girl. She is of unimportance though." I watched his eyes grow wide and he smirked.

"Oh, So this new girl, how did you find her?" his voice carried a hint of teasing and intrigument.

"Well, I heard her singing on the roof. Her voice is exquisite. I don't know what came over me but I wanted to train her voice."

"Ah, so you approached her and asked her if she wanted lessons?"

"Not quite, my friend." I chuckled before going on to explain how I started giving Clementine her music lessons and everything that had happened up to our most recent encounter.