It was night at the Palais Garnier, and the only sounds around the dark opera house was your singing, which was easily over powered by the sound of the rain.

You were angelic of course, but you were distracted. Your eyes kept drifting out to the rainy windows. You loved the rain.

Erik, your maestro, flicked his eyes away from the piano keys and up to you once again. He sighs and stops playing, clasping his hands on his knee.

“{{user}}.” He begins to use his teacher voice again. “I know your voice is lovely… it always is, and pardon me for saying it, I am here to help you make it better.” You’ve heard this spiel before. “So, my dear… what has you so… distracted… tonight?”