The Phantoms of the Opera And The Things They Do To Annoy Nadir.

Monopoly

In which Erik and Raoul de Changy attempt to put their differences aside and enjoy a relaxing, gentlemanly round of a timeless board game while Christine takes a well-deserved break from them. For dipper_squad

It was as Raoul pulled another armchair across the sitting room into place before a little collapsible table, at which his opponent was setting up a board, that he began to worry if this was indeed a good idea.

Erik took his own chair, shifting on the thin material until he deemed himself comfortable, and flexed his hands. He didn't invite Raoul to sit, taking the box of money instead.

Raoul took his seat himself.

"Shall I deal the money?" he suggested, as Erik removed several handfuls of the paper tokens. The skeletal hand paused mid-air. Raoul met the glowing eyes in the shadows of the stark white mask.

"I suppose you will take better care of it than a crook like I?"

Raoul sat back in his chair, wriggling against his cushions until they moulded against his back. "It isn't that. I'd simply feel better knowing the box is out of your reach. If I myself knew exactly how much we both had."

Erik set the box in his lap, staring at Raoul incredulously through slitted eyes.

"You mean to imply my cheat before we've even started the game?"

Raoul tapped the armrest, looking away towards the window just beside him, the flowers, the cabinet, anything but his new game-mate's burning eyes.

"I didn't say that."

Erik said nothing more. He kept the box. Raoul took the amount he passed across the table and counted it through, rather surprised when he found himself adequately financed for the game.

He frowned, counting it again. Erik set the box on the floor, an equal distance between themselves.

"Erik, how much money did you take?"

He shrugged. "A necessary sum."

"Erik-"

"Shall we start?"

The old ghost set a pair of characters on the start panel, aligning them rather meticulously before the row of properties.

Raoul pursed his lips, replaying Christine's coaxes to see past Erik's facades for just one evening, while she went to town for a 'ladies' night' with the Little Giry, over and over. It was quickly becoming his last tie to sanity for the night. He sat back in his seat, taking in the sight of the monopoly board once more.

"Might I play with the motorcar?" He asked, spotting his favourite character already positioned to play. Erik's head snapped up from where he was tidying away his loose cravat.

"No," he replied rather curtly, motioning to the second character. "I took the liberty to set the top hat out for you."

"Yes, but-"

"Come now, Monsieur!" Erik splayed his long hands, fingers like the legs of a spider, as if to make his purring words all the more poignant. "You are a gentleman, no? You will play with the top hat. Motorcars are such dirty machines! All that smoke and oil, pooh! No, I shall play with the car."

"What about the dog? Wouldn't you rather the dog?" Erik stilled at his words and watched him closely. "Christine once told me you had a fondness for-"

"Do look at the time!" Erik exclaimed, drawing his pocket watch from his waistcoat and regarding it with surprise. "I think we should start, don't you?"

A set of spindly fingers passed the die across the table toward Raoul. He stared, a nagging voice in the back of his head convincing him this particular die might be fixed against his odds. He shrugged it off and reached for it.

Erik grinned. "Devil take the hindmost."

Raoul swallowed and shook the small, cold cube. "Devil take the hindmost."

(•}_•)

An hour ticked by. And another. And another. Raoul hadn't been entirely sure why he'd agreed to Erik's bet just before he'd rolled the first number, when all this was supposed to be a friendly match.

Only within the last hour did he understand.

Monopoly, he discovered to his horror, was a war, one at which Erik was a veteran. Without relinquishing his seemingly endless supply of money, Erik had snatched up far more than half the board, and landed Raoul in Jail at least five times; the Count, it seemed, had stopped counting after that.

As Raoul felt ready to slump in defeat, he spotted Erik's cocky grin amongst the shadows of his black mask. Something flickered in his head.

"Giving up, Monsieur?" Erik smirked, reclining in his seat and stroking the purring Ayesha, who'd set herself in his lap a few minutes ago. Raoul's fingers twitched. His resources were dwindling, from either landing on Erik's properties or having terrible luck with the chance cards. And yet, that smirk, it ignited his will to fight.

Raoul seized the die.

"Not quite." And he threw it back onto the table.

Erik's grin faded.

For the first time that night, a stroke of luck fell on the Comte de Changy's shoulders.

He moved the little top hat six spaces to the free parking space and removed the handfuls of money he'd been robbed of from beneath the board.

Erik cleared his throat. "Roll again, Monsieur," he muttered, eyeing the wad of notes in Raoul's favour.

And he did.

A chance card.

Move to the next train station and roll again.

And he did.

Two spaces. Rue de la Paix.

He moved the piece. With a grin, "I'll buy it."

Erik sat bolt upright with a splutter. "You can't!"

But Raoul popped his money in the bank and set his house upon the street with a devilish grin. Erik had gone around the board about four times trying to buy that particular property. He sat back in his seat, playing with his moustache.

"Your turn."

Erik snatched up the die and shook it out of its wits. "You watch yourself, Monsieur. I had you down to the last of your resources before, I can do it again!"

He tossed the die back onto the board.

Both Raoul and Erik leaned forwards to examine the outcome.

A pregnant pause descended upon the parlour. Erik gripped his trousers at the knees.

Raoul looked up with a smug grin. "Well, Monsieur? It's your-"

He wasn't too sure which happened first, whether the board went flying or Ayesha did. Either way, the almighty crash was coupled by a horrified yowl. Raoul shut his eyes tight, throwing his arms up and cowered back into his armchair.

Feet thundered up the stairs, accompanied with curses loud enough to wake the dead. A door overhead slammed, seemingly rocking the little house on its foundations.

Raoul opened his eyes.

The hallway door swung on its hinges, bouncing against its frame. Ayesha stuck fast halfway up the curtain beside him, paralysed in horror. Raoul uncurled himself from his seat, his pounding heart drowning out Erik's furious pipe-organ melody upstairs.

The table had been thrown across the room, the board and pieces scattered, some no doubt lost forever beneath the loveseat and amongst the carpet. He sighed and pushed himself out of the chair, onto his knees on the floor. This next mission was going to take a while.