Another tedious evening of forced socialization.

Ship travel across the Atlantic might be faster and safer than ever, but, Edward thinks, it's still just as dangerous. The Titanic might be unsinkable, but that won't keep him from jumping overboard out of pure, unadulterated boredom.

He reclined in a plush armchair, swirling a tumbler of whiskey as he gazed out at the seemingly endless expanse of ocean through the large windows. There was music constantly playing on the background as soon as he emerged from his cabin. His head is aching terribly. The burn in his throat was a welcome distraction from the suffocating expectations weighing on his shoulders. He tugged at his stiff collar, already dreaming of retreating to his bedroom and loosening the damn thing.

Life should not be this way. His life shouldn't be this way. The pressure is getting to him and he can't help but to feel the despair building on his heart. It's the night of the 11th, on the 17th, the ship would arrive to New York and his existance would change to an unrecognizable point.

A shadow looms near him. Edward stifles a sigh from emerging from his throat as he looks up.

"Yes? Were you looking for me?"