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When This Ship Docks 2

The Master at Arms, slightly disappointed by the confiscation of the sketches, returned to his official duties, grumbling under his breath. "I don't know what his problem is." He whispered to his colleague as Cal approached the cabinet in the other room to reveal a bottle of whisky and a glass. "So the girl has gone missing for a few hours, big deal! She'll have met some friends, gotten carried away, had a few drinks in the dining saloon and lost track of time. She's on a ship, not another bloody planet!"

"You're right, she's not on another planet..." his companion nodded in agreement, and then signalled his eyes casually over to Cal, who was staring at the drawings with hatred, punching them as they sat atop the table. "...he is."

Jack and Rose strolled along the promenade deck hand in hand, 1st class passers by alarmed by their obvious division in class, yet unstoppably magnetic attraction. For once, Rose felt comfortable being with him out in the open, no longer feeling as if she had to hide her true feelings for this perfect specimen of a man. Jack on the other hand was unusually self conscious now that they had ascended from the well deck. Now, he felt like a big under the magnifying glass, every speck of dirt or smell of cheap beer and tobacco from him amplified. He tried to ignore their gazes, and even though he did this well, he couldn't help but feel out of place in his cords, discoloured shirt and braces. Not to mention his almost worn out boots and somewhat greasy hair. Everyone else looked so flawless. It was true, money couldn't buy you happiness... but it could get you a good wash at least.

"Won't Ruth be out here at this time?" Jack asked, almost nervously.

"Oh no, she wouldn't dare risk catching the cold just to see the beautiful night sky... she missed my first ballet performance because it was rather cold out and she would have had to walk to the Town Hall... i don't think i ever forgave her for that... not properly." As Rose spoke, Jack could tell that even though she kept her head held high, her voice could not hide as expertly the secret sadness that was so quietly hidden.

"I'm sorry to hear that." He squeezed her hand.

She squeezed it back affectionately. "Don't be. My Father was there to see me... he was always there to see me." And then she was silent.

Jack picked up on the silence, sensing that her mind was working overtime. "What you thinking?"

"I'm curious... what do you think my father would say if he could see me now?"

Jack was caught off guard by this, and letting go of Roses' hand he stopped and turned to face her. She stood, barely up to his collar bones, and gazed up at him, deeply interested in the answer that her tanned lover was putting together. "Well..." he began, taking a deep breath. NOW he felt under the spotlight... all eyes on him. "... I think he would be, as cliché as this sounds, very proud. Not only because his little girl has blossomed into the most gorgeous, flawless, independent, intelligent, energetic, fun loving woman, but also because she is starting to live life her way... not the way others want her to live it."

Rose blushed, and as Jack stroked her face, she took his hand and kissed it. An elderly gentleman walking his dog passed the couple and looked at them as if he had seen a large pile of dog faeces invading the personal space of a beautiful flower. "Is that what my father would think? Or is that what you think?" she further questioned him.

"Well, quite honestly, I think it's what any person would think." Just then, he caught eyes with another passerby, who looked him up and down distastefully. "Well, any sane person that is."

"You say that as if all 1st class are not quite right in the head."

"No, not all of them. Just the ones who think it's okay to sell their daughters to strange men." He smiled casually at her, and Rose took the subtle brick of a hint. "That's what I love about 3rd class. We may have nothing, and grow up in slums, living like dirt... but we have something that these guys up here will never have."