Gansey listened with rapt fascination. Like a child listening to the tales of his elder, or a student eagerly learning from a teacher. And what he learned was truly magical; this Phantom didn't bathe in blood and bask in terror. He didn't murder innocents. It was more like he was a silent guardian. It was clear that he loved the theater very much, from the way he spoke.

Smiling, Gansey watched, eyes sparkling. Only when Laurent paused for a break from his stories did Gansey finally speak, "I don't think I can call you Ghost or Phantom anymore," he confessed, "because it feels more like you're an angel. Or a guardian." Corny as anything and he knew it, but he didn't care. How on earth was there such a genuine person lurking underground? The why still didn't make sense to him.

"Thank you. I liked hearing your stories very much. They belong in a book."