In Sebastian's and Grell's room, B-52-56, the 'Millionaire Suite' consisted of two bedrooms, a bathroom, a walk in wardrobe, a large sitting area and a beautiful fifty-foot promenade deck outside. On the deck were potted trees and vines on trellises. A waiter was pouring Sebastian a flute glass half-full of orange juice with champagne. He then handed the stoic man his Bucks Fizz and then took his leave – silently.

Sebastian was looking through his new paintings, he really did adore them. They were all beautiful masterpieces, all so different and all by unknown artists. Grell wasn't amused with Sebastian's obsession with them; she believed them all to be pieces of junk, though Sebastian refused to think such thoughts about the paintings.

'Those scribbles on paper were such a waste of money,' Grell said, annoyed.

'You're wrong. They're fascinating, something that can only be imagined in a dream. What's his name again…?' Sebastian turned the painting around, reading out the signature, 'Picasso.'

'I can't see that name or their work ever becoming more than they are now. Cheap.'

A porter then wheeled in Grell's safe, her eyes gleamed and lit up when she saw it. She told the man to put it in the wardrobe, clapping her hands and imagining what she had in store for her future husband, she bounced over, smiling extravagantly.

Sebastian had left the room to go and put up a painting on his dresser. Meirin, the maid, was folding some of his clothes and putting them away. She was a short young lady, her eyes were hidden behind huge round glasses and her hair was a burgundy shade. She wasn't really speaking to anyone, though it was still a half attempt at speaking to the richer couples.

'It's all so new, like it was built just for us,' she giggled, blushing some when Sebastian looked at her. 'I mean, just the thought of crawling between the sheets, I'll be the first–'

'And when I crawl between the sheets tonight,' Grell purred from the doorway, 'I'll still be the first.'

Grell came up behind Sebastian, silencing Meirin with a stare that looked as if she was covetous. The way she held Sebastian though was not in a loving embrace or any sign of intimacy, but of possession. Meirin blushed more at the innuendo and took her leave after bowing and excusing herself politely.

'The first and only,' Grell clung to the raven-haired man. 'Forever.'

Sebastian broke free from the eccentric and – strong – woman, though it only led to him being cornered by the walls of his room. He ignored the fact that he had just been called a virgin, even though he was twenty-four and had already been involved in a few sexual acts with his ex-fiancée. They had only broken up because he wasn't being intimate enough. Though in his opinion, he just wasn't attracted to her in any way other than her sense of humour. He'd never really been attracted to anyone still to this day, so being forced to marry the flamboyant Grell Sutcliffe was overwhelming.

'It is improper for you to act so lewd before we are even…even…' Sebastian wrinkled his nose in slight disgust, '…married.'

'Oh, come on, we're both adults here,' Grell purred. 'You don't have to be such a prude all the time, do you?'

Grell had moved closer with every syllable, walking her fingers up Sebastian's chest and finally resting over the side of his face, her other hand resting on his upper-arm, lightly twisting her fist to grab onto the fabric of his sleeve. She got to her tip-toes and leaned in for a kiss, but was rejected the instant Sebastian caught onto what her intentions were. Instead, Sebastian gripped Grell's wrist and spun the red-head around so that he was pressing himself against her back.

'No, I don't,' Sebastian breathed down Grell's neck, 'but I'd prefer not to rush things, ma douce.'

'Sebast–'

'Fermez les yeux. Ne parlez pas, ne font pas un bruit,' Sebastian whispered, loosening his grip and staring out towards the sea, the deep, red hue in his eyes almost turning a sparkling lilac with the reflecting of the blue of the ocean. 'C'est ce que je trouve beau. Le silence. Avez-vous d'accord?'

Sebastian continued his drabble in French without realising, though Grell was none the wiser. She just believed he was whispering more sweet nothings in her ear. In reality, he was telling her in a stylised way to 'shut up'.

'Speak to me some more in the Language of Love!' Grell nearly collapsed from the excitement.

'J'ai vraiment mépriser nos parents décision. Epouser vous me dégoûte complètement,' Sebastian chuckled, knowing Grell had no idea what he was saying. He then spun the red-head back to face him and lifted her chin up with his thumb and forefinger, staring deeply into the vibrant – nearly fluorescent – viridian eyes. He licked his lips, 'Vous me replulse complètement, ma chère Grell.'

'Ahem,' a throat was cleared in the doorway, Grell looked past Sebastian, while he looked over his shoulder slyly, 'Grell, dear, it is nearly tea time in one of the private tea rooms, so please go and change for that. Sebastian, you need to change too, but I would like a word with you first.'

'I'll see you later, sweetie,' Grell blew Sebastian a kiss from the doorway.

'J'espère que vous trébucher et tomber hors du navire, ma chérie.' Sebastian called back to her, winking at Grell.

Sebastian's mother's expression hardened upon hearing that comment and once Grell was out of sight and ear-shot, his mother sighed exasperatedly.

'Don't look at me like that, Mother,' Sebastian sighed. 'That frown will cause wrink–'

'Do not ever speak to your fiancée like that again, do you understand?'

'Mother–'

'Do you understand?' his mother asked again, her silver hair beginning to stray from her tight bun, her dark violet eyes narrowing.

Sebastian nodded, though subtly rolling his eyes. Unfortunately for him, his mother could speak French too. And she understood everything he'd just said. His mother, although her hair was light silver, she wasn't all that old it was just the natural colour. Her name was Hannah Michaelis – maiden name Anafellows – she was rather strict and since her husband's and her financial problems, they were in need of a quick fix solution – and marrying their only son off seemed the quickest solution as their friend's daughter had had her eye on Sebastian for quite some time.

'Good.' His mother spoke a little gentler now, 'Now go and get changed for tea. I expect you to be there in no more than twenty minutes. We've some guests you are to meet and announce your engagement to.'

Alois and Ciel were still in their room, laughing and joking about. They'd decided to stay in their room the entire first day, just to relax and not worry for anything for a change. They'd played a few rounds of cards – without betting, of course – and had even fallen asleep next to one another for an hour or so. Their roommates wouldn't have thought it appropriate if they were any older than what they were – thirteen – but what could they really do anyway? – Other than start rumours at this point anyhow.

Ciel scrunched up his face as he started to wake up, his eyes opened slowly and he realised he'd fallen asleep curled up next to Alois again. I've got to stop doing that, he thought, people are going to start thinking we're… like that. Ciel sat up, stretching his arms above him and his back, yawning loudly. He closed his eyes once again while doing this and was suddenly being constricted around the waist.

'You're c-crush-shing m-me!' Ciel wheezed while trying to pry Alois' arms from around him.

'But I'm cold now,' the blond boy complained, getting closer and hiding his face against Ciel's side.

'Use the blanket then,' Ciel rolled his eyes and tried to free himself again.

'But the blanket is all the way at the end of the bed,' Alois looked up with puppy dog eyes, though his sly grin peeking through took away any innocence he attempted to feign, 'and you're right here, keeping me warm enough already.'

Ciel offered to get the blanket for his friend, but he still refused. In the end, Ciel made a deal with him. The dark haired boy agreed to draw the lighter haired boy's portrait, if he let him go and used the blanket to keep warm instead. Alois accepted and got into his pose of how he wanted to be drawn and Ciel got up and went through his bags for his leather bound sketch pad and conte crayons. He threw the blanket at Alois' head, making the blond boy frown, but smile afterwards anyhow.

Once Ciel put crayon to paper, he was in a complete different world – his own and nobody else's – and nothing else mattered. He was good, really good. Alois knew it, he knew it and anyone who'd ever laid eyes on his sketches knew it. You'd have to be blind not to see his talent.

By late dusk that day, they'd stopped at their final destination – Cherbourg – having picked up their final passengers. The sky was an inky purple post-sunset sky. The water was calm and the thousand portholes were reflecting against the surface, rippling lightly with the current. The ship was lit up like a palace, magnificent and one-of-a-kind.

Coming up the gangway in the first class reception was a tall woman in red. A large red hat sat atop her head, her hair was red, her lipstick was red, her clothes were mainly red, her shoes were red, even her luggage was red! She was being chased down by a spindly porter whom was trying to carry her bags for her. The woman in red finally noticed this and smiled to him, putting her bags down and turning to him, one hand on her hip while the other just remained at her side.

'I wasn't about to wait all day for someone to carry my bags if I'm able to,' the woman in red announced sternly, then her expression softened and a smile graced her lips. 'Go on then, take 'em up the rest of the way then… if you think you can manage.'

At Cherbourg, the woman came aboard as Angelina Durless, but we all called her Madam Red. Her late husband had struck gold someplace out west, and she was what Sebastian's mother would call 'new money'.

In her late thirties, Angelina Durless was a tough talking straightshooter who dresses in the – red – finery of her refined peers, but will never be one because she was not born into money. Though it never brought her down, Angelina was proud and only cared for her own opinion when regarding herself.

Once the porter had put her bags in her room, she had gotten ready to meet up with her friends, the Michaelis'.

Translation!
'Fermez les yeux. Ne parlez pas, ne font pas un bruit,'
'Close your eyes. Do not talk, do not make a sound,'
'C'est ce que je trouve beau. Le silence. Avez-vous d'accord?'
'This is what I find beautiful. Silence. Do you agree?'
'J'ai vraiment mépriser nos parents décision. Epouser vous me dégoûte complètement,'
'I really despise our parents' decision. Marrying you disgusts me completely,'
'Vous me replulse complètement, ma chère Grell.'
'You repulse me completely, my dear, Grell.'
'J'espère que vous trébucher et tomber hors du navire, ma chérie.'
'I hope you trip and fall off the ship, my darling.'