While the costume was frightening, that voice... so clean, delicate, elegant. It was at stark odds with the Ghost's appearance. It was soothing. It was the kind of voice that Gansey could love—not that, he chided, he should allow himself to become besotted with the loveliness of the Phantom's voice. And his eyes were so human it was difficult to remind himself that he was trying to discover what manner of creature this man really was. How could he be human if he was so young, yet known for haunting the Palais Garnier for many, many years.
It was a mystery. One that was utterly intriguing.
Gansey followed as the Ghost commanded. At his warning, Gansey obeyed, not wanting to set off a trap and end up with a leg lobbed off. It was fascinating, how the underground worked. If only the people above knew about what was underneath them! The marvel muted a bit when he remembered that he would never be free to go and describe all of the wonders to them. And even more muted when he realized that also meant that he wouldn't see his family again.
When Gansey heard the shrieking and smelled the rotting, meaty smell, he felt sick. And sad. It was impossibly sad, even when a rat was suffering and dying, he thought. There was no time to stop and try to help it. They kept going.
Upon approaching the tunnel Gansey slowed, taking a good look around to assess the situation and how dangerous it was. The roof hadn't blown out; that was a good sign. Even if the stability was compromised by the wall being forfeit it wasn't likely to come all the way down and kill them unless either the breakage went much farther than it looked, or the other wall decided to collapse while they were trying to clean it out.
And, thankfully, there were tools. He had imagined he would have to dig them free with his fingernails.
Before answering, Gansey continued to assess the situation. He would make no false promises, even if it ended up with the Phantom choking him to death for being so utterly useless.
"I think so," he finally said, slowly. "I'll need water. For the larger pieces; it's easier to move stone when it's wet, particularly underneath it. With the reduced friction I should be able to pull them away."
Beginning to unbutton his shirt, Gansey looked at the Phantom, "If you can get me a few buckets, that would do nicely." Carefully folding the shirt in his arms, he laid it to rest on the platform so that it wouldn't get dirty, and began to stretch. Best limber up, if he was really going to do manual labor.
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It was a mystery. One that was utterly intriguing.
Gansey followed as the Ghost commanded. At his warning, Gansey obeyed, not wanting to set off a trap and end up with a leg lobbed off. It was fascinating, how the underground worked. If only the people above knew about what was underneath them! The marvel muted a bit when he remembered that he would never be free to go and describe all of the wonders to them. And even more muted when he realized that also meant that he wouldn't see his family again.
When Gansey heard the shrieking and smelled the rotting, meaty smell, he felt sick. And sad. It was impossibly sad, even when a rat was suffering and dying, he thought. There was no time to stop and try to help it. They kept going.
Upon approaching the tunnel Gansey slowed, taking a good look around to assess the situation and how dangerous it was. The roof hadn't blown out; that was a good sign. Even if the stability was compromised by the wall being forfeit it wasn't likely to come all the way down and kill them unless either the breakage went much farther than it looked, or the other wall decided to collapse while they were trying to clean it out.
And, thankfully, there were tools. He had imagined he would have to dig them free with his fingernails.
Before answering, Gansey continued to assess the situation. He would make no false promises, even if it ended up with the Phantom choking him to death for being so utterly useless.
"I think so," he finally said, slowly. "I'll need water. For the larger pieces; it's easier to move stone when it's wet, particularly underneath it. With the reduced friction I should be able to pull them away."
Beginning to unbutton his shirt, Gansey looked at the Phantom, "If you can get me a few buckets, that would do nicely." Carefully folding the shirt in his arms, he laid it to rest on the platform so that it wouldn't get dirty, and began to stretch. Best limber up, if he was really going to do manual labor.