"Are you sure you can't get it any tighter?" I stifled a groan as I shook my head at the most agitating woman to ever step foot on this ship. No, it's not Maureen, but some first-class woman. I didn't bother to ask her name, merely because I really could care less. I glanced over at her million-dollar closet before eyeing her up and down in that whalebone corset. Granted, she's beautiful—but it doesn't give her the right to verbally walk all over me. She has beautiful, long brown hair, I mean, absolutely beautiful, and an enormous diamond engagement ring on her finger. The ring, I'm not surprised at that. She's not the neatest woman on Earth, however—her clothes always seem to be scattered across the room, clothes I get the pleasure of picking up, but she's pretty enough, I suspect. She took in a deep breath, turning to me. "Any tighter?" she asked again. Not unless you want your ribs to snap.

"I'm afraid not, Miss," I said.

"Well, try." She turned back to the bedpost and held onto it tighter than before. I sighed. She's not going to give up and it's all because women feel the need to be as thin as possible. Did any of them ever try dieting? Corsets just seem to be too painful for my tastes. "I need to look fantastic for Edward tonight." I assume Edward's her fiancée. I'm not really sure—and yet, I still don't care. If Edward loved you so much, he'd get you a maid to boss around. I'm already abused enough, thank you very much.

"Miss…"

"Just try," she said between clenched teeth. I sighed again, before unlacing the top of the corset, beginning to tighten it from the bottom up.

"Deep breath," I instructed before pulling the laces as tight as I could. Now, I'm not happy and plan on taking my frustration out on the corset. She peeped, probably from her ribs cracking into her lungs as I tied it. "How's that?" I asked, trying not to sound as sarcastic as I mean to be, placing my hands on my hips.

"Perfect," she said, so breathless, it almost sounds like she's speaking to me in a whisper. "Now, the dress." She brushed past me and towards her closet, a hand on her stomach, still trying to breathe. I hid my laughter. The way women torture themselves! Granted, after only a few tries, lacing a corset is just as funny as it is difficult…for me, anyway. As much as I may complain about it, I do get to admire the beauty of the first-class rooms when I lace corsets. Oh, to have money…Wouldn't I just love to have no other worries on this Earth, and only worry about what to wear for dinner? No, not really—but I wouldn't mind the money. "What do you think?" she asked me, gesturing to a green dress hanging in the closet. I shook my head. That's hideous. "No?"

"I don't think so, Miss," I said quietly.

"Doesn't match?"

"How about the black one?" I suggested, ignoring her question as I stepped towards the closet. I held out a fully-beaded black dress maybe one or so down from the atrocious thing known as the green dress from Hell. "It's really beautiful."

"You think so?" I nodded.

"It'll play up your fair skin," I lied. Maybe she'll tip me. Never has, but it's worth a try, anyway. She smiled, almost proud of her beauty. This is revolting.

"Alright, that one it is." I took it off the hanger and undid the hooks in the back, trying not to pull any beads off the dress by accident. It really is pretty, I mean, it's funeral-chic. I would never wear this, ever. You couldn't pay me enough to wear this dress. Even though it has a train, that she'll just step on, anyway—it's pretty, but maybe not in black. I don't know, I'm not a fashion consultant. "Take a step in," I instructed, holding out the dress for her. She put one foot in and then the other and I pulled the dress up onto her shoulders, fixing it before I pulled the back together. She stared at herself in the mirror, this large smile across her face as I began to redo the hooks again.

"Do you think it's too much?" she suddenly asked, scared. I shook my head. It's not too much! I'm not putting another dress on her right now, damn it. "No?"

"No."

"I mean, after all, I am dining with the Captain, besides Edward, of course, and then there's Bruce Ismay, and Thomas Andrews…" I fought the urge to roll my eyes, and blinked instead.

"Important people," I said, with a nod. What else am I to say?

"Exactly. That's why I'm wondering if it's too much."

"Well, they're important," I repeated. "So…It's not too much, Miss." I hooked the last little hook on the nape of her back and I'm actually a little relieved that Hell is over. "Take a step forward for me?" I asked. She complied and I fixed her train, straightening it out over the carpeted floor.

"What about jewelry?" she asked, moving away from me before I could completely fix the train. Oh, well. It's not my problem. "Silver or gold?"

"Silver." She glanced at me over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

"Really?" I nodded.

"It'll give some color to the dress," I lied, yet again. I paused. "And are you going with white or black gloves, Miss?" I questioned, changing the subject before going for the bureau.

"White, of course!" She laughed. "Black's only for funerals." Well, she could've fooled me. I opened up the top drawer of the bureau and after a minute or so of rummaging through it, I found the gloves. "The long ones," she reminded me, as if I were a child. I hate my job. I walked towards her and helped her on with the gloves as she struggled with a silver necklace.

"Here, let me, Miss."

"Those silly lobster claws! How do they expect you to wear the necklaces?" I shrugged a shoulder as I managed to hook the necklace together. She straightened it out and I glanced at her momentarily in the mirror. She looks okay. I mean, besides the whole funeral dress, she looks okay for dinner. I'm not helping with another dress, so it'll have to do. "How's my hair?" The hair that took me forever to do? She touched one side of her head and a bobby pin, of course, had to come out and fall to the floor. "Oh, I'm sorry." You don't sound sorry.

"I'll fix it," I told her, "take a seat for me, would you?" She nodded, sitting down at her vanity as I searched for the missing pin. Found it. I pulled the hair back that the pin was holding in place and struggled not to stab her with it as I placed it back in. "How's that? Secure enough, Miss?"

"It's perfect." She stood, brushing past me as she grabbed her purse off the bed.

"Will that be all?" I asked.

"I think so. I'll ring after dinner."

"Of course." I curtseyed, no matter the embarrassment and opened the bedroom door to the sitting room, where a man in a tuxedo was sitting on the sofa. Well, he certainly wasn't here when I first came in. He inevitable ignored me as I went for the door to the hallway. Someone just throw me overboard. Please.

"What do you think, Edward?" I didn't glance over my shoulder. It's funeral girl.

"Oh, my dear, you look ravishing!" I have to see this. I glanced over my shoulder to see the man, who must be Edward, stand and take her up in his arms. Oh, that's Edward all right. "You look good enough to eat." I held back my laughter. Is he kidding? I can't believe he just said that! "And you picked this out all by yourself?"

"Oh, yes, of course!" she giggled. I rolled my eyes. Of course, I don't get any credit for my taste in clothes.

"You'll knock those officers right off of their chairs!" he exclaimed. Alright, that's enough. I sighed and opening the door, took a step out and slammed it behind me. Oops. Besides…Dinner. I hate dinner, just as much as I despise my job—where I get to be surrounded by water all day, every day. I had laced so many women tonight, I think I have lace burns from trying to tie the corsets so tight. I did the best I could. I do try. I brushed hair from my eyes as I made my way down the hall, towards the first-class dining hall. I need to look like I'm doing something productive, as if I'm actually busy. God forbid Maureen should find me. If I find Alan, we can at least look like we're being productive together.

Of course, he's nowhere to be found. I'm not sure what he's been up to all day, but here I am, working like a slave…wondering where he is. He's probably eating, the pig. Come on, Alan! Where is he? I sighed impatiently. And maybe, if I play my cards right, I'll even get a chance to eat something during this dinner! It takes the royalty a little while to get back up to their rooms and ring for me, so maybe I'll get the chance to eat…if I'm lucky. Am I the only woman steward on this damn ship!? I feel like I am, especially after meals—every other female steward is nowhere to be found.

I went through the doors towards the dining hall and stopped at the staircase, peering down. No sign of Alan. Damn it. Where could he have gone? I turned, my back to the stairs as I watched men and women alike slowly but surely make their way down the stairs. How long does going down a staircase take, anyway? I looked to my left at the door and sure enough, here comes Edward and that girl. I groaned. What did they do, run to get here!? They were just gloating over each other a second ago, and now, here they are…like flies. And of course, she'll want me to do something—like she always does when she sees me and I really don't want to have to push her down the stairs. Blood stains on the oak would not be a pretty sight. I quickly scurried down the stairs, almost knocking two women down in the process.

"Well!" one huffed.

"Can you believe how rude!?" the other one exclaimed.

"Manners, oh!" I hid a laugh as I made my way towards the entryway to the dining hall, just before an oncoming disaster should occur. I looked up at the stairs and here those two come—Edward and the girl he gets to call his wife. I watched, almost in slow motion, expecting her to fall down the stairs, but they made it down successfully. As they brushed past me, I watched as her dress train began to bundle together in the back.

"Wait." I stopped myself. I'm not running in there after her. "Don't trip," I said between clenched teeth. "Don't—" Too late. She tripped, but that darling fiancée of her's managed to catch her before she fell flat on her face. "Trip." I held back my laughter. I'll get blamed for that now, just watch and see.

"Hello, Lucy." I stopped cold, before forcing myself to turn. Mr. Andrews, completely dolled up and my God…no Lucy, he's married. Remember that! I forced a smile. How many people will I see going into the first-class dining hall before I get the hint and leave?

"Hello, sir," I said, with a tiny nod.

"Any luck with that notebook yet?" he asked as the people he must've come down the stairs with brushed past us, which included the Captain and a few officers I don't recognize. "Lucy?" I looked from his little party back to him.

"No luck yet," I said, pulling myself out of my head.

"It has to show up eventually, right?"

"It will," I reassured him.

"Why don't you join us?" he suddenly suggested. I laughed politely at that. He can't be serious.

"Thank you, but no thank you, sir," I said, with a small smile. I gestured to my clothes. "I'm not dressed for it." He shrugged, as if it didn't matter.

"So?"

"Maybe another time. I'm meeting Alan, anyway," I lied. Never in a million years could you get me into that dining hall, without paying me a pricey fee.

"Oh, are you now?" he asked, somewhat unconvinced. I smiled. He doesn't even believe me and in a way, why should he? I am lying, after all.

"If I can find him!"

"Well, maybe another time. When we find you the proper attire, would be best, I think." He smiled at his own humor, merely because he didn't sound all that serious. "Maybe before the maiden voyage is over…?"

"Of course."

"Well, take care, Lucy." He brushed past me, a smile still on his face and I just had to sigh. He's way too happy. Then again, why shouldn't he be? This is his ship and we're all on it.

As more and more people went into the dining hall (I suppose calling it the dining saloon is more proper), I had to zigzag my way past them to get back up the Grand Staircase. I think that's what it's called, anyway. And looking up, I whistled at the big glass dome above me. I whistled. I never saw that before…I suppose I never noticed it, even though I've been down the stairs hundreds of times in the last few days.

Anyway…now to find Alan, which is the main reason I came down here in the first place. Down the hallway I went, towards the outside, trying to figure out where that café is. I need a map. But, maybe he's in there—He always seems to be in there. I pushed open a door and down the deck I went, in somewhat of a daze and after looking through a few windows, trying to figure out where I am—I finally found the café and took a left inside. Empty. Well, where else could he have gone?

I bit my lower lip, trying to think as I continued to wander across the ship, not really looking for him, and still sort of looking for him…If I find him, great, if I don't, I'm not going to panic. I can hear water hitting the ship from the deck and daringly, I looked over momentarily. Complete and utter darkness. I'm not sure what else I expected! But, it's just dark…but, we all know there's water down there. I shuddered at the thought.

Minutes or maybe an hour of wandering later, I find myself on B deck…at least that's what some sign said high over my head when I passed. I took a random left and found myself surrounded by chairs and tables—and I'm still somewhat outside. It looks almost like a porch. Yes, a screened-in porch. I groaned. This must be that other café, the Café Parisian that Maureen raved about before we boarded, the café for the younger set of royalty. It must be luxurious, why else would Maureen rave about it?

And besides, how many café's are actually needed on one ship? More than one, obviously. And even though it's getting pretty chilly out here, I took a seat at a random table in the middle of the room and sighing, threw off that dumb bonnet. I crossed my arms over my chest, looking around at everything. Just empty, woven chairs, no people—everyone must be eating in their proper places, but…I leaned back into my chair. This is actually pretty comfortable. Then again, I'm so tired, I could sleep on nails and not notice…