The Phantom:	So here's the deal, my dear: you can choose me or this other idiot who I have tied up right now in a blatant representation of his physical inferiority to me
Raoul:	*choking*
The Phantom:	See. Weak. So go ahead and make your choice.
Christine:	What you're saying is...my options are you...
Christine:	Or Raoul.
The Phantom:	You got it, sister. Now hurry it up before that terrible mob of fire-brandishing morons crashes this popsicle stand.
Raoul:	*more choking*
Christine:	Let's see...
Christine:	*Looks at Raoul: strung up like a strand of Christmas lights, tears streaming down face, smeared guy-liner, no defensive weapon, yet Pantene-perfect hair*
Christine:	*Looks at the Phantom: crazy-eyed, positively twitching with anticipation to yank on the rope that would choke the daylight out of the Viscount for good, half-ugly face, yet a pristinely kept suit*
Christine:
Christine:	Are these really my only options or...