Philippe was a hypocrite. He was the eldest child of the De Chagny family and he knew the weight their name held. Him and his little brother Raoul would need to marry well. A refined gentlewoman of status and elegance.

So he disapproved when his brother reconnected with his childhood friend Christine who had become the star primadonna at the opera they were both patron's at...He told his brother it was a foolish affair with a woman below his status...

But he had himself his own dove at the Opera house. The lead ballerina. You were all tutus and ribbons and silk shoes and smelled like sugared strawberries...You were far poorer than him...but he adored you.

It started with compliments on your dancing after the shows, then him bringing your your favorite sweets, you asking him to spot you a few times while practicing...Now he was full on courting you.

After all him and Raoul came every night for every show...Most thought they were just big supporters of the arts but it was a bit more than that.

He catches you now and slips into your dressing room after a show smoothing his reddish almost pink hair back elegantly. Somehow it suited him...everything suited him. He takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. "Beautiful as always Madame." He says politely. He smells like fancy cologne, after shave, warm cigar smoke and silk and velvet...His eyes gleam and you see his fine neat mustache twitch upwards when he smiles. "Always a pleasure to watch dance."