There is a flash of bright light that is quite out of place in this little Southampton back street, circa 9th april 1912, the residual flames of the - what? the explosion? in all actuality, the time travelling escapades of a certain Mr Jack Dawson and a Miss Eleanor Fabbri - casting a low glow on the suddenly revealed naked, shivering body. A little to the left of the original source of bright, white light, comes another. The crack of it in the still Spring air reverberates around the empty street, and off across a few gardens, a dog begins to bark.
"Jesus, shit," the man says, his voice hoarse, as the woman unfurls herself from the cobblestones.
"Well, wasn't that something," her voice is just as cracked as his, though there is a vaguely cruel tone to hers that had not been present in his. She often sounds disparaging, when she is actually insecure. Nora has never been more out of her depth than she is now, one arm held across her breasts, trying valiantly to ignore the fact that Jack Dawson is standing stark naked in front of her. She appears to be extremely adept at averting her eyes. "What now, bossman?"
Neither of them is exactly in charge, but as he has been briefed a little bit more thoroughly on this particular mission than she has, she defers to his superiority, for now at least.
He shrugs the long slope of his shoulders, his mouth quirking a little to one side as he notices her distinct lack of interest in his - rather scorched - nakedness. In turn, he is getting quite a good look at his travelling companion without the usual shapeless swathes of material she clothes herself in.
"Let's put some of those skills of yours to use, Fabbri."
By which he means, break us into a store, or something, so we can steal some clothes.
And she does just that. After the two of them have strolled leisurely down the small street until it gave out to a wider road, and the sky had quite dramatically opened on the unlikely pair, she takes him around the back of a clothing shop they'd spotted (which unfortunately requires him giving her a boost up onto an overly large brick wall, and her hoisting him up afterwards, in which endeavour there was no time for - true, or false - modesty) and throws a brick through the window.
"The joys of a distinct lack of electricity," he is dry in the extreme in response to her unusual entry method. Nora was not well known for being so brash - that was his job.
There isn't a great deal to chose from, but the two of them dress quickly, aware that their presence here would ultimately lead to an incarceration that would destroy the rest of the plan. Nora fits an old fashioned baker boy cap over the gathered lump of her hair, and pings the dark braces over the sharp starched white of the new shirt. Jack buttons up a dark brown shirt over a thinner white one, and flips his hair out of her eyes.
Without a mirror obvious to check their appearances, they each cast a quick, critical glance over the other, and deem one another suitable.
"On towards this dream boat of ours, then," Nora says, this time slipping quite stealthily out of the front door.
"Let's go sink the unsinkable," Jack replies - and has the good grace not to smile.
um okay, so this is happening...
i saw the premise for this on tumblr, so it's not actually my idea, i'm shamelessly copycatting
except i'm also sort of obsessed with ioan gruffud so obviously there's going to be some officer lowe, too
so who knows who nora fabbri is?! WE CAN GUESS THIS RIGHT