"It's an awful name," Laurent replied, disliking it immediately. "You're very glib. I am the Opera Ghost. You may call me that."

He settled on one of the benches nearby, still fully dressed. "Hurry up," he ordered.

There were fresh towels already waiting, everything the young man would need. Laurent watched him, feeling his heart quicken with eagerness to see him unclad. He allowed none of that to show behind his impassive golden mask.