"Ah," Erik answered back. His eyes moved away from her and out toward the stage again - and beyond. The seats were difficult to make out, even with his keen sight in darkness. As she'd been standing in a ring of light, he doubted she saw anything but the light itself.
And then he looked back toward her, at the eyes that she possessed. She was not the same as everyone else - much like Hannibal and his extra digits, or Erik himself with his deformed face. No, no one could see the deformity, but he still felt it - especially at night, especially here in the Opera House, the very building he'd designed to hide his deformity from the world. He wondered if she ever felt the weight of her difference, as he had. She was one of them - she, and Hannibal, and himself - a lover of beauty and of music, and a creature apart from the rest of humanity.