Standing at her full hight of 5''5 and her large brown eyes, Leigh looked around the crowd. The ship was built as if God had created it. She heard people saying that God himself could not sink this ship. But this girl believed otherwise. God, the mother, created this ship; and God, the mother can destroy it when she saw it fit. But holding her few belongings she tried to find her way to the thrid class area. She had the clothes of a second class ticket holder, yes, but she had saved up for this occasion for months. She had worked in a clothing factory, and watched other girls get their not-so-nimble fingers cut off. She got inspected, a hand on her rump. Leigh just closed her eyes and let him, her hands tightened up around her small bag. It was a man's world, not a woman's.

"Oi! Have sum respect fer the wom'n" A voice said rather loudly. Irish she thought to herself, one of her few talents was to tell a person's accent and associate it with the proper country. Years of sitting in bars with her drunkard father and listening to the men talk. Her accent was a slight english one, but not thick enough to spread on bread. She moved around too much to have a heavy accent, England, Scotland, then to Ireland.

The hand left, thankfully, and she gathered her other two bags and continued walking after turning and mouthing "Thank you". She had passed the inspection, and the Irish mand passed her own inspection. All Irish men seemed to be attractive, she concluded. It's because they're so rough, and they can drink. A good drinking man is always attractive. Even as they beat you, you still cant get over how beautiful they are.

She walked, smelling the sea air and the scent of animal. But what was best was the sweet aroma of man. Men, yes were rather cruel and unforgiving; Yes, that much was true. But they were still the only thing that women really needed to survive. Their scent, like the scent of sex, could not be replicated or mistaken. At least, in Leigh's opinion.

She had spent her time in Ireland, because she didnt want to have any stops on the voyage to America. So, getting on at the last stop was a great idea, well thought out, and why not? Ireland was a great country, the beer was good and the men were wonderful.

Her mother would have another heart attack if she found out what a woman her daughter turned out to be. A 23 year old woman that loved men and drinking, and on her way to America. Her father would shrug and go back to drinking his beer, complaining about how his machines never worked. He never seemed to get the reason was because he 'fixed' them while he was intoxicated. But Leigh never really cared, he could be the comical old man that he always was, and her mother could be the hypocritcal woman that she was. But this time, the angels will be the ones getting fed up with the constant nagging. Not her or her father.

She walked the halls of the Titanic, and wondered who were the people in first class in a daze. Her short brown hair in small waves and a black ribbon around her neck. "E-116..." She mumbled trying to find her cabin number. "They should have a map or something.."