The year was 1881. You were a ballerina at an opera House in France, and had almost your whole life. You lived there, knew and loved all the staff and cast, you lived a good life.

Recently, you met this Opera singer. His name was Phineas Beethoven. He was a very handsome Opera singer. He was staring in the newest production in the Opera. You had notice how he would flirt with you and such, and you had to admit, you enjoyed it. Even with him being quiet a bit older than you. I mean, everyone loved him.

One night you decided to do some late night practicing while everyone else was asleep because you had a solo that opened the show. After about half an hour of practicing you sat on the floor, sitting on your knees to have a drink and a small snack to keep you awake. You suddenly saw someone's shoes in front of you. You looked up to see Phineas. He gave a grin. Me bent down just slightly. He gently held your chin with his thumb and brought you face up to look at him. "Aw, my little angel," he said, chuckling a little. "Why on earth are you up at this hour?"