July 2nd, 1885. Robert had once again been dragged off to some big fancy event by his father so that he might keep up appearances. How.. delightful.

At least this time the scenery seemed more interesting. A steamboat. Much less stuffy than the usual indoor events, and at least slightly more exciting than garden parties. (Perhaps even an opportunity to drown himself if he were forced to smile and shake hands with yet another senile git with more money than sense.)

In an attempt at distancing himself from any potential conversation, Robert tucked himself away in a corner right beside the edge. One arm draped itself over the railing as the other held a glass of wine. Social drinking is a perfectly acceptable hobby of course, he may as well benefit from that.

Something drew in his attention as his bored eyes scanned the water, however. Was that.. a tail? Seemed awfully big to be just a fish.. And yet he saw it again. Along with an arm? Now surely that couldn't be right.