RMS Titanic (starts on 13th)

Phillipe / 6:00 / April 11th, 1912

Phillipe narrowed his eyes as a rough wind hit his face. The sea was blue and sparkling beneath the ship, and the sun was beginning to dip down below the horizon again. He looked around the deck and saw other passengers, mostly couples, roaming the deck. But one woman stood out in particular. She was alone, staring out into the sea, just as Phillipe had been.

His curiosity piqued, Phillipe strolled toward her. "Mademoiselle?" he asked courteously. She turned. "Parlez-vous français?" Phillipe continued. The woman smiled and shook her head. She had a fair complexion and a mass of chestnut-colored curls piled on her head, in the latest style.

"English?" questioned Phillipe.

"Yes," replied the woman, smiling again. "But I can try to suffer through French if you need me too," she added. Phillipe chuckled.

"Not at all," he said, smiling at her. "I can manage, if you don't mind an accent. May I inquire as to your name?"

"Jessie," came the reply. The woman, Jessie, inclined her head at Phillipe. Phillipe copied the gesture.

"Call me Phillipe," he continued. Jessie paused for a moment, inspecting Phillipe's face.

"Did you board in Cherbourg?" Jessie asked. Phillipe nodded. "Then, Phillipe, I believe we sit at the same table at dinner. It is a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance."

Phillipe grinned. "A fine lady like yourself?" he replied, a slight teasing note drifting into his tone. "The pleasure is mine, Mademoiselle Jessie." Jessie giggled.

**Hope you don't mind mild flirting there.

Henry/April 11th/6:30PM

Henry looked up from his book at the sky, its blend of pink and orange reminding him of the countryside where he'd spent so much of his youth. He heard a giggling and glanced towards the first class deck, where he saw the pale girl standing with a rich handsome Frenchman. He sighed.
Eh. Just another woman I fouled up with. There'll be others.
Standing slowly, he went down to the library to return his book. He passed through the hallways, the scent of the wood stain filling his nostrils. He entered the library and climbed a ladder, placed his book on the shelf, and descended. On his way to the exit, he glanced to the right. There, staring up at the shelf of books was a young blonde woman. He suddenly caught himself staring at her and hustled back to his room to prepare for dinner.

~Karidee~6:35/April 11th

There, in the library, made my mind rejoice. The rows of books were uncountable, and the variety was endless, I ran my fingers over the books, on the row closest to my height, and read the titles silently.After a few minuets, I decided on a book called Infinity. The book was rather large, but everything in me wanted to read it. A large, very comfortable looking chair sat in the corner of the room. I gracefully walked over to it, and sat down. I sunk into the soft chair, my hand delicately set on the cover as I opened it to the first page. The book struck my interest within the first page, so I proceeded reading, getting more interested with every word I read.

((I'm thinking we should take this out of real time, because two days have already gone and there's been less time than I thought for development of any sort. Opinions?))

((Agreed))

((Anyone think there's a case for restarting, if we ditch the real time prospect? Same characters, obviously. In fact, to save cluttering this further, head to the rather unloved discussion thread.))

((Well, if you haven't read the DT, we're moving this out of real time because it's getting too fast. I'm going to keep listing days, but not times.))

Jessie, April 11th 1912

"The pleasure is mine, Mademoiselle Jessie." Giggling like a child, Jessie allowed Philippe to take her arm. "Shall we go to dine?"

"Of course. You'll have to meet my husband." Wickedly, Jessie turned, smiling, but Philippe looked abashed.

"A husband, cherie? I apologise for my rudeness. I didn't mean to -" He shuffled slightly and blushed, looking for all the world like he wanted the ocean to swallow him up.

"I'm not a prisoner, Philippe. Come to dinner, please. It's getting cold out here." Jessie shivered, deliberately and dramatically, but Philippe didn't react. They began to walk together towards the Grand Staircase, stewards paving the way as they went.

"How long have you been married?" Philippe asked, politeness masking a faint tone of disappointment.

"Not nearly long enough for you to care," Jessie replied without hesitation. They now stood at the top of the staircase, and Jessie waved towards the balding man standing at the bottom. He didn't wave back. "That's George, there. He's the man who looks far too old for me and knows it."

Philippe smiled thinly, but didn't comment. Jessie turned to him, hands on hips. "I said it before, Philippe. He cannot keep me under lock and key. Say what you like to me, but please, don't keep that infernal silence and politeness. We have to sit through dinner together now and will have to for the rest of the voyage, and I would like to have some conversation in that time."

All at once, with the stealth of a man much practised at diplomacy, Philippe nodded and bowed his head. "Of course, Mademoiselle Jessie. It will be my honour to accompany you to dinner. I must apologise, again, for my rudeness, it seems."

Finding George's eyes, Jessie took the first step, and knew that her words to Philippe had been true. If she had signed her own warrant at the wedding, she had now tossed it into the fire - and was watching it burn.

Phillipe, 11 April 1912

Phillipe's head was buzzing. The dead space between he and Jessie seemed to be charged with electricity. Phillipe fought the urge to dart away, if only to clear the space. Phillipe reminded himself that he was not in error. He had only mistaken Jessie's marital status. Jessie may have even considered it a complement.

Phillipe noticed Jessie moving down the stairs. He hurried to catch up with her, keeping his expression even. Her husband looked at Phillipe with mild interest. As Jessie reached the foot of the stairs, Phillipe took the opportunity to respectfully distance himself from her.

"Good evening, Monsieur," said Phillipe quickly. "I am told that I may be sitting with you for dinner. Your wife has graciously invited me to accompany you two to the dining room."

"I see," replied the man, giving Jessie a quick acknowledgement. "And who are you?"

"I am Phillipe Laurent, Monsieur. I apologize for not stating so earlier."

"George Hartland."

"It is a pleasure, Monsieur. Shall we go, then?"

Jessie smiled and began walking for the dining room. Phillipe and her husband quickly followed. Upon reaching the dining hall, Phillipe checked with a steward to ensure that he was indeed sitting with Jessie and her husband. Phillipe was. An odd feeling settled in Phillipe's stomach. He couldn't understand if he was thankful for his seating placement or not.

As Phillipe sat down, Jessie flashed him an odd smile. "So, Phillipe. We haven't really had a chance to talk about you. What brought you to the ship?"

"Well," said Phillipe measuredly. "I was in need of a respite. My father is the Baron d'Laurent, you see? French society can get very overwhelming for any direct tie to nobility. So I decided to go abroad for a while, and get away from all the customs and expectations. What about you, Madame?" Phillipe noticed an odd expression cross Jessie's face at Phillipe's change in address.

Jessie, 11th April 1912

The dinner had passed with awkward conversation and an almost constant glare from George until the men retreated to the smoking room. Jessie assumed that they were still there now, but she had long before retreated to her stateroom. Now she was staring at herself in the mirror, trying to rub away the tear stains from her face. It was all self-pity, she knew that, but that feeling of enslavement had never hit her so hard before. She was madame, not mademoiselle: a lost cause.

The door slammed and Jessie scrambled for the bed, closing her eyes and faking sleep. She couldn't confront George now. She heard footsteps approaching the room, but no telltale sound of George hanging his coat up on the nearby chair, or the drunken whistling she was used to after a dinner party. Instead, the footsteps came to a halt at the door, and waited.

((Can't think of much. Phantom, not sure if you want to use this and go into another scene - just talking, I guess, though. If you don't, just leave it and it can be George.))

**That's fine, Jet. I am not quite sure how Jessie would react to this scene. Let me know if I need to edit.

Phillipe, 11 April 1912

Phillipe pinched the bridge of his nose as he waited outside of the Hartland's rooms. Dinner had been very awkward. Phillipe needed to apologize to Jessie. Phillipe had seen the way her husband had been looking at Jessie all through the evening. He did not want to create strife between the two. If Jessie wished, he would speak to a steward about changing his dinner seat.

After a moment, Phillipe knocked tentatively at the door. He had left M. Hartman in the smoking room. Jessie should be the one to answer the door.

No answer came. Phillipe sighed. He had obviously been far too forward with Jessie from the start. Phillipe would take this as a 'yes' to his question. He would go to the steward tonight and -

"Phillipe?"

Phillipe looked up wildly. "Madame! I wanted to apologize to you, again, for dinner. I did not mean to put you in an uncomfortable position with your husband. If it would suit you, I can change my seating arrangement. We never need - " Phillipe paused, seeing tear marks on her face. "Are you all right?" he asked, concerned.

Jessie, April 11th, 1912

"Are you all right?" Philippe stood at a distance, and Jessie knew that he had seen her tears as they caught the light. She moved towards him and then stopped, suddenly unsure of herself.

"Yes, yes. I'm fine, Philippe. You probably shouldn't be here," she added, but he didn't flinch. "Don't apologise. It was my fault in the first place for giving you the wrong impression. Maybe we can just be friends."

Her heart screamed at her then, as she turned the key in the lock. Philippe had been an escape route, but Jessie found that she didn't want to hurt him - or George. Fresh tears glittered in her eyes as she sealed her own fate.

"Of course, Madame. Of course," Philippe repeated, looking away again. "If friends is what you want to be, we shall be friends. It is what you want, Madame?"

"Yes." Jessie forced the word out. A relationship was ending before it had the chance to begin. "I'll see you at dinner tomorrow, Philippe. Maybe we can talk again then. But please, go. George won't like it if he finds you here."

Phillipe, 11 April 1912

"I don't have to be here," said Phillipe automatically. Jessie looked up at Phillipe, surprised and a little bit confused. Phillipe sighed, shaking his head. "I am sorry. I should not have said that. I only meant that we could go elsewhere if you wished to talk more."

Jessie opened his mouth to talk, but Phillipe interrupted her. He had spoken out of line too many times tonight. Phillipe needed to know Jessie's exact feelings on the matter before anything else could happen. "Never mind that. I can't seem to control my tongue tonight. I understand why you wish me to leave. I will go. Goodnight, Madame."

Phillipe turned to step away. A strong impulse overcame him as he began walking down the hallway. Phillipe spun around.

"Madame - " he said quickly to Jessie, who had moved to close the door. She turned to him, questioning. Phillipe winced. "Ah - Jessie. I will be up on the top deck until around midnight," he said hesitantly. "Just in case."

Phillipe turned and walked away quickly now. He couldn't believe what he had done. How could he prod a married woman like he had? Secretly, thought, very deep inside Phillipe, he was glad. If Jessie came to meet him, then Phillipe would be far more sure on how to go forward. If not, well, Jessie did not seem to hate Phillipe for all he had done. Phillipe could be grateful for that.

*bump* Please post, I liked this one. A lot.