Jack had never felt so out of place in his life. He felt painfully self-conscious in these clothes, no matter how rich they made him look. As he walked through the First Class hallways, both awestruck and bewildered by their grand and extravagant decor, he felt his insides doing back flips with nerves. God, what was he thinking? A new suit couldn't magically turn him into a sophisticated aristocratic human. No way was he going to pull this off. At worst, he'd make an idiot of himself, and at best, his true identity would be discovered and he'd end the night as a pelt on someone's cabin floor. Good thing this meal was the fanciest on the Atlantic, because it was probably going to be his last.
Nevertheless, he forced himself to keep going. He made his way, stiffly, along to the Grand Staircase, with it's intricately carved designs that were almost artistic enough to justify the deaths of the trees that formed their canvas. Of course, Jack had very little idea of exactly where he was supposed to be going. Everything in First Class looked so huge. Thankfully, all around him were elegantly (and expensively no doubt) dressed ladies and gentlemen making their way in the same general direction; down the staircase and towards the floaty sounds of a string band. Guess that's my best bet, Jack thought to himself, and he followed the people down towards the music.
As the trail of people he followed came to an end at what looked to be the entrance to the dining room, Jack suddenly realised that he didn't actually know where he was supposed to meet the people he was joining for dinner. Rats. Cal's first strike, no doubt. Unsure of what to do, he figured that if this was the only entrance, his best bet was to wait here.
Jack eyed the men around him closely. He was astounded by how remarkably similar they all were, right down to their scents, the range of which didn't go beyond a mixture of fine whiskey and expensive leather, which just the occasional dash of elegantly aged paper, like that of a book so old and rare that it was a mere library ornament. Did humans intentionally try to make themselves as indistinguishable as possible? The men were all dressed almost identically to each other, and Jack himself. What exactly was a tuxedo anyway, some sort of uniform? Almost every man had completed his ensemble for the night with an exquisitely dressed lady wrapped delicately around his arm. The final uniformed accessory.
Aware of how must scrutiny he would be under, Jack tried to use the men for some last minute study. He tried to imitate their posture, their actions, their expressions. He felt utterly ridiculous. He couldn't have been doing too badly though, considering the occasional polite "good evening" he received.
Suddenly, Jack caught hold of a slight scent of steel. Sickly and metallic. Following his nose, he looked up to the staircase to see the man from the previous night, Cal, was his name? Interestingly, his accessory for the night wasn't the red haired beauty Jack had spent the afternoon with, but what was clearly a former red haired beauty, before time, and no doubt, stress, had etched most of it away.
"For goodness' sake, where is my daughter?" the woman snapped quietly in Cal's ear. Was this Rose's mother?
"Oh, she'll be along" said Cal vaguelly.
Jack prepared himself to be spoken to as they approached, but found himself completely ignored by the pair of them. They brushed past him, eager to bid good evening to a lady across the way.
Right, so they invite him to dinner, and they weren't even going to acknowledge him. Lovely.
Any annoyance Jack may had felt in that moment was very quickly overshadowed by awe, as from the corner of his eye, he saw Rose descending the staircase, smiling at him shyly in her burgundy beaded dress, her hair piled up on her head in a detailed style. She looked nothing short of amazing, and Jack couldn't help but stare as she came towards him.
Rose had had to take a double look to make sure she was staring at the right man. Jack looked startlingly different in his evening wear with his normally messy blonde hair neatly slicked back. Where on Earth did he get that tuxedo from? Whatever, all that mattered was that he was here, and he looked amazing. Rose had found herself strangely itching with nerves as she'd dressed, taking more care with her appearance than usual, but now that she was here in front of Jack, she found herself strangely nervous. She smiled at him shyly, pausing just a step above him.
What was he supposed to do? What did humans do in these situations? Hmm. Jack suddenly recalled what he'd seen one gentleman do to greet a lady not long ago. Trying desperately not to seem awkward, he gently took Roses's white gloved-hand, raised it to his lips and gave it a kiss.
"I think that's what I'm supposed to do" he said with an awkward smile.
Rose giggled. She was revealed to see that Jack appeared to be as nervous as she felt.
Taking inspiration from his very limited knowledge of custom, Jack offered his right arm to Rose who happily linked it with her own and let him escort her over to her mother and Cal.
"Darling" she tore an unwilling Cal's attentions away from the countess he was in conversation with. "Surely you remember Mr Dawson?"
"Dawson!?" Cal's looked at Jack up and down in surprise. Jack ignored his resentment at being referred to by his last name. "Why, that's amazing! You could almost pass for a gentleman!"
Well, this guy sure wasn't going to waste any time on the insults.
"Almost", Jack agreed with a smile. If he wanted to be sarcastic, he was only too happy to join in.
As they made their way towards the dining area, Jack tried his best not to feel overwhelmed as Rose pointed out endless rich and well-known people. Well, well-known amongst humans, that is.
"That's John Jacob Astor" Rose pointed to a moustached man, accompanied by a rather young woman whom appeared to be his wife. "His little wifey there, Madeleine, is my age and in a delicate condition. See how she's trying to hide it? Quite the scandal!"
She was having a baby with a man she loved. Why was that such a scandal? So little of this made any sense to Jack. The whole atmosphere felt far too stiff and formal for his liking. Were these people genuinely enjoying themselves? Or was this all some sort of act they felt the need to put on? How sad their lives must be, forever putting on a performance they believed those around them wanted to see. He was more than relieved when the arrival of Molly Brown injected some much needed life into the party.
"Care to escort a lady to dinner?" she asked him with a cheeky wink.
"Why, certainly" Jack replied, offering her his other arm with a matching wink.
"See, ain't nothing to it is there? Remember, they love money, so just act like you own a goldmine, and you're in the club"
"Right. 'Hi, I'm Jack and I own a gold mine', got it"
"Well, perhaps a little more subtle" Rose laughed, as Molly led them briskly over to the Astors.
"Hey, Astor!" Molly called to her friend, never the one for formalities.
"Why hello, Molly" Mr Astor smiled to his friend.
"J.J, Madeleine, I'd like you to meet Jack Dawson" Rose introduced them.
Jack shook hands with them both.
"I say, are you of the Boston Dawsons?" asked J.J.
"No, the Chippewa Falls Dawsons, actually" Jack replied.
"Oh, yes, of course, I see" J.J replied, demonstrating that he clearly didn't.
As they all sat down for dinner, Jack was dismayed to see that he several seats away from Rose, but at least he had Molly next to him for help. And with one look down at the vast array of cutlery in front of him, he was sure he was going to need it.
"Are these all for me?" he whispered to Molly.
"Just start from the outside and work your way in" Molly muttered in reply, nodding at him to follow her lead as the first course was served.
Jack thought it was all going rather well, until the conversation inevitably was turned to him. To his surprise, the first round of attack was launched not by Cal, but by Rose's mother.
"Tell us about the accommodation in Steerage, Mr Dawson" she said with a sickly sweet smile. "I hear they're quite good on this ship"
Well, there goes the gold mine. Ah well.
"The best I've seen, ma'am" he replied happily. "Hardly any rats"
The table chuckled. Jack gave Ruth an innocently kind smile which certainly wasn't returned.
"Mr Dawson is joining us from the Third Class" Cal announced. "He was of some assistance to my fiance last night, it seems"
"Indeed he was" Rose continued eagerly. "In fact it turns out that Mr Dawson is quite a fine artist. He was kind enough to show me some of his work today"
Jack smiled. Rose seemed eager to paint him in the best possible light to this lot. She must have realised that Cal didn't intend for tonight to go well for him.
"Well, Rose and I differ somewhat in our definition of fine art" Cal replied. "Not to insult your work, of course" he continued to Jack vaguely, as though he really didn't care whether he offended him or not.
"Jack spent time working on his art in Paris" Rose continued, eager for the group to be impressed with her new friend.
"Oh really?" piped up Ruth. "And tell us, how is it you have the means to travel?"
Great. Rose had meant well, but Jack had hoped to not have to go into too much detail about himself or his life. This would be tricky.
"I work my way from place to place" Jack explained, taking a bite of a cracker to hide his discomfort at the whole table of eyes being focused directly at him. "Slowly but surely. I know its not the most direct way to travel but as an artist I prefer the scenic route anyway. But I won my ticket on Titanic here with a lucky hand at poker. A very lucky hand"
He could hear several of the men chortle in amusement, some perhaps jealous that such lucky hands had often failed them.
"All life is a game of luck" declared Colonel Gracie, whom Jack recognised from last night, in his deep, hearty voice.
Cal chuckled and shook his head.
"A real man makes his own luck, Archie" he replied.
"I don't tend to focus on luck too much" Jack continued. Perhaps it was the steady sips of champagne he'd had, but he suddenly felt much more at ease with the conversation. And more importantly, much more confident in attempting to put Cal down.
"I don't really care much for material wealth to be honest. I mean yeah, if luck happens to get you, then great. Just look at me, last week I was sleeping under a bridge and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world, having champagne with you people"
He held out his glass to the waiter for a much appreciated refill.
"But I figure I'm already enough luck just to be alive. I've got the air in my lungs and a few blank sheets of paper, and I'm happy with that. You never know what hand you're gonna get dealt next, so appreciate the one you have right now. I always try to make each day count, 'cause you never know which one's gonna be your last"
Jack's plan of saying as little as possible had well and truly been thrown right out of the nearest porthole. Now he understood why humans enjoyed drinking fermented fruit juice so much. The champagne, one bottle of which probably cost more money than Jack had ever had in his life, had conjured a speech straight from his heart that had silenced everyone at the table. Neither Cal nor Ruth could seem to think of a reply snarky enough to get away with.
"Well said Jack" declared Molly with a triumphant smile. Jack had well and truly fulfilled his side of the bargain.
"Here here!" sang Gracie in agreement.
Across the table, Rose raised her glass, her eyes fixated on Jack.
"To making it count" she toasted, giving him an impressed smile.
As the table repeated her words, Jack smiled back at her, both of them unaware that their private exchange had been noticed by both Cal and Ruth.
Jack breathed an inner sigh of enormous relief as the conversation gradually turned away from him. That had gone as well as could be expected. He allowed himself to enjoy the rest of the meal, most of it containing food he had never heard of before, let alone eaten. This included caviar, which, he was told on the sly by Molly, was fish eggs. Jack grimaced as the black lumpy substance was dropped onto his plate. It was baffling that anyone would rather smear a smidge of this black slime-like substance onto a tiny cracker instead of take a nice juicy bite out of a freshly caught fish. It tasted far worse than a proper fish, and far less filling.
The last course was served, and a tray of cigars was passed around (which Jack declined; smoking, a purely human habit, had never interested him enough to try, but he was aware that the coughing fit it would surely give him would destroy the positive image he currently had amongst Rose's crowd), and everyone began to draw their minds towards heading elsewhere.
"Next it'll be brandies in the smoking room" Rose whispered to Jack across the table.
Jack grinned as, sure enough, the Colonel got to his feet and loudly invited the men of the table to join him in a brandy.
"Now they'll retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate themselves on being masters of the universe" Rose continued.
"Joining us, Dawson?" called the Colonel to Jack, catching him by surprise. Well, he must have made a good impression if they were inviting him for cigars and brandy. Not that that would persuade Jack to accept their offer. He had no desire for cigars nor brandy, and the thought of putting himself through the ordeal of spending time amongst these men without having Rose there to make it worthwhile sounded unquestionably unpleasant.
"No thank you" he replied politely. "I should be heading back"
"Probably best" agreed Cal and he strode up to Jack on his way out with the other men. "It'll all be business and politics. I doubt that'd interest you"
Jack fought to control the twitch of his nose as Cal's tangy metallic scene flooded around him as the man got too close, giving him a "friendly" pat on the back.
"Good of you to come, Dawson" said Cal as he swept from the room. Jack didn't reply. Not only because he was done being polite to the man, but also because he was more interested in the suspiciously narrowed eyes of Cal's valet, Lovejoy, as he followed his employer outside. There was something weird about that man, and it wasn't just his charred wood scent.
"Jack, must you go" asked Rose. She has enjoyed this evening far more than any she had in a long time, and she didn't want it to come to an end.
"Time to go back to rowing with the other slaves" Jack shrugged, making Rose smile.
"Goodnight, Rose" he said, taking her hand to kiss goodbye. He paused, his lips hovering just above her hand for just long enough to mutter, low enough for her to hear, "Meet me at the clock"
He didn't wait for a reply. A swift kiss goodbye, and he was gone.
Jack breathed an enormous sigh of relief as he walked briskly out towards the staircase. After making such a success of himself in there, and fuelled by the liquid courage of the champagne, he had decided to give in to his urge to try see Rose again. His more alert conscience told him this was breaking every rule in his book, but Jack wasn't listening. Rose had looked so proud of him as she gave the toast, and so sad when he'd left. Everything in his mind told him it was wrong. But he had to see her again. He just had to.
Jack waited at the landing of the now almost deserted Grand Staircase, by the clock, as he'd told her. He watched the minutes tick by, every little click of the clock thundering in his sensitive ears. What if she didn't come? What if he'd been wrong? Just as he was about to give up hope, his ears picked up the sound of familiar heels clicking on the immaculately polished floor. He turned round to see Rose ascending the stairs towards him.
He smiled. She had come to him. He'd bought a few more precious hours with her before she would surely disappear back into the crowd of lace gowns, champagne and dreadful caviar forever.
"They call that a party?" he laughed as Rose approached him.
Her previously uncertain face lightened into a giggle.
"Well you seemed to be enjoying it" Rose remarked as she took his proffered arm.
"That, is simply because I am a master of disguise" Jack joked, laughing to himself at the enormity of the truth of the comment that Rose was oblivious to.
"Come on, lets get out of here. It's way too stuffy"
He led her out onto the deserted deck, and they made their way towards the gate to the Third Class area. Jack had had more than enough of rich people for one night.