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walter plinge

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Walter sweeps.

Walter sweeps and he clears empty glasses and he refreshes the fire and he cleans tables and he sweeps.

You will have seen him, but you won't have noticed him. He's as much part of the furniture as the rats. Less noticeable, really, because wait rats are at least interesting.

Not Walter. Walter's juts a background figure.

He sweeps.

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The Phantom is tired, worn and thirsty as he takes a seat at the bar; asking for a glass of refreshing wine, he glanced about the place, it was nearly empty if his vision served him correctly. The mask sat on his face perfectly, he had taken it off earlier this morning for a clean before he set out for a lonesome day.

Paige? Where was his Prima Donna, his lady of the stage? The only woman that could soothe this headache he had from the blinding lights of the bar. Oh, Christine, he was sorry for betraying her but she had betrayed him so who was right?

Walter's sweeping up the floor nearby, not really looking up as he appears to focus mor on not falling over his own feet. It's remarkable how someone so naturally clumsy can sweep so efficiently.

Until he sees the man in the mask, however. Then he just openly stares.

Staring bothers him, it reminds him of his horrid childhood days when he was stared at for a living, made fun of and ridiculed as the Son of Satan. Staring, what was the purpose? To gawk and to point, to laugh and to giggle at his deformity that was Hellsent but God given for him to use to his advantage.

They stared, they all did and his stare was more like the gawking of those Theatre rats that talked about him and got the Punjab Lasso treatment.

After a few seconds of openly, unabashed staring, Walter seems to actually notice he's lookgni at someone and is suitably chasticed. Mrs Plinger didn't bring up a bad boy.

He looks down, suddenly, shamefully, and continues to sweep with almost ferocious determination.

"What were you staring at?" Erik inquires, his back still to the boy, the staring menance that was sweeping the messy ground. His leather gloves curled around the glass in his hand, twirling the red, blood red wine about.

"Nothing, sir!" Walter declares earnestly, the words coming out in a sudden exclamation, and his eyes wide with panic.

Erik scoffs unbelievably at the boys answer, he pushes the glass of wine aside and turns on his stool to face the messy man, "Then look, will you? Look before God and worship him in blasphemy." and by God he meant him, Erik, the King of Heaven whether the true God liked it or not.

Still panicking, Walter shuffles uneasily on his feet, and obediently turns his head back up.

"'M a good boy, mister!"

"Sure you are. You clean messes that others will not touch, you sweep your life in directions of the dirt on the floor." Erik remarks, as if he was a Poet, "Now tell me, young man. What is your name and why do you stare?" lifting the unmasked brow at him from across the room.

"Walter Plinge, mister! I work for Gil in the kitchens!" The words fire out in one breath, as if he's afraid of losing the last words if he doesn't say them quickly.

He doesn't answer the second question. Strange, that.

Erik interlocks his fingers in one another, the leather creaking over his boney hands as he does so; the boy looks scared, but he still stares. Why?

"Walter Plinge. Work in the kitchen." he repeats the boys answers, "Now that I know more about you, why do you stare? You did not answer my question, do not be so quick to displease God with your blasphemic ways." he warns him in a stern tone.

Walter's not so much with the worrying about displeasing the gods as he is with displeasing his mum. He's that kind of boy.

He drops his gaze again, unsure as to what's expected of him.

"I didn't mean any harm, mister. I'm a good boy!"

Erik laughs, obviously amused by the boys frightened appearence, he clasped his hands together tightly before turning to finish off his glass of wine. "It is alright boy." he said in a rather unconvicing voice of reassurance.

"I'm a good boy," Walter repeats, half to himself. "Mister Gil needs me."

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