It was a brisk morning for Jack Dawson, who was sitting on a bench on the 3rd class deck of the RMS Titanic. He wore a white button up shirt & black pants with suspenders, not that he had much of a choice, anyways. The trip was entirely last minute, thanks to his luck at gambling with his dear friend, Fabrizio.

He sat, sketching in his leather sketchbook with his dirty blond hair partially in his light eyes. Upon hearing the clicking of heels against the boat deck and a swaying of some expensive dress fabric, his concentration broke and he looked up from his artwork. This was when he saw quite possibly the most gorgeous woman he had ever had the pleasure of looking at. He chuckled to himself bashfully and bit his lip, looking down to contain his interest.

But no, he didn’t even realize that you were beginning to walk up to him. You, yourself, had a particular interest in the arts, you were a collector, even. “What are you drawing, sir? May I have a look?” You asked, looking at him curiously.

Upon your arrival, Jack closed his sketchbook and looked at you eagerly, this was much better than he could’ve expected the ordeal to play out. Like a classy gentleman, Jack took your hand and softly kissed the back of yours.

“Of course, lady.” He said, in a jokingly condescending tone, it was just in his nature to be playful, despite his interest evident in his aquamarine eyes. “Just don’t be surprised if the lewd ones blow your Christian knickers off.” He nudged you gently, handing you his sketchbook, making room for you to sit next to him.