Re: 3rd floor (just before the moon rises)
Erik tended to lose track of what went on around him whenever he was composing, and the same applied when he began to play a piece, whether it be on the violin or the piano. Christine may have recoiled at his touch, she may have been unable to look upon his face when he didn't have his mask; but despite all that he knew his music was different. It was what had drawn her to him as the Angel of Music, what had kept her with him... until she learned that he was just Erik, not an angel at all.
He didn't notice that she'd fallen asleep until he reached the end, and any bit of harshness remaining in his gaze disappeared entirely when he looked upon her sleeping form. "Christine," he sighed softly, moving quietly to stand over her.
She couldn't be afraid of him when she was asleep - he could even pretend that they were like any other couple when she was like this, instead of knowing what he was beneath the mask. Le mort vivant, the living dead. He sighed again, letting a gloved hand ghost over her hair before turning away, beginning to play again in an attempt to occupy himself until she awoke.