[Black boots treading across the ground is the first thing that the PCD picks up when it turns on. That, and the occasional flutter of fabric, as if the owner of the device was wearing a cloak as he strode through the city. For a while, he's unidentifiable, but then he starts talking to himself and that voice
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He just leaves it where it is as he steps through the doorway and onto somewhat dusty, marbled floor. What curious behavior.]
If no one else has decided to make this their abode.
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Perhaps not so splendid right now, mademoiselle Liddell.
[And not nearly as splendid as the Opera House, but that is of no concern right now.]
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And while it may have taken a normal person to realize the significance of that name, it takes Rachel Berry approximately two point four seconds.]
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It was him.
The Phantom of the Opera.]
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Now what's this about all those being here? Models?
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Then it shall be interesting to see how one such as you adjusts to such a fantastical place as this. Also, buildings, mademoiselle, buildings.
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There's nothing fantastical about this place. It's just delusional. And if those buildings are here, they're replicas.
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[Pause, bending down, and is that a-- Yep, that's a footprint.]
Behold. Though I regret to say, Madame, that I would not be your host should you wish to relive those days.
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