He watched intently as the witty socialite fluttered about the third class deck, storming out of the café in a rage. He tugged at the collar of his worn shirt, his brows furrowed. He was lucky to even be here, on the Titanic.

It was actually quite funny seeing you, someone of high society, angrily throwing a fit. You were supposed to be back in the first class deck, not here with the commoners. Certainly not while you’re clad in that white formal attire.

He continued drawing in his book.