"I've been with Santana since I was 15." We're walking around the boat deck, Brittany telling me about her life. "Since my parents died, and I had no brothers or sisters, we had no one in that part of the country. So we left. We haven't been back since." She's carrying a folder under one arm, still smiling despite the turn the conversation has taken. "I'm like a ball of weeds." I know she means a tumbleweed, I'm getting used to the way she talks.
"Well, Quinn, we've walked around the entire boat twice, talked about the weather, and my life, but that's not why you came to talk to me is it?" She's wearing mens clothes again, yellow trousers with matching suspenders, dark shirt tucked into them. She doesn't seem to care about the looks she gets. When I'd asked her, she'd told me it's easier to travel like this, but it doesn't explain why her pants are brighter than the sun.
"Miss Pierce, I…" I start.
"Britt"
"Britt, I wanted to thank you… for what you did." I pause slightly. "Not just for pulling me back, but also for your discretion."
"My what?" She looks confused again.
"For not talking, about what happened."
"Oh! You're welcome." There's that smile again. It makes my heart skip a beat, and I can't seem to grasp why.
"Look, I know what you're thinking. Poor little rich girl, what does she know about misery."
"No," she tells me, "That isn't what I was thinking. I was wondering what had gotten so bad that you'd want to do that." Her smile is soft and sincere, and the suns catching her eyes in such a way it makes them sparkle. I need to stop thinking like that.
"It was everything, my whole world, and all the people in it, the inertia of my life plunging ahead and me powerless to stop it." She looks confused, probably by the word 'inertia' but she doesn't speak, just watches me with her sparkling eyes. I hold out my hand, and her eyes widen. "
"Look at that thing! It would've dragged you straight to the bottom." She smirks.
"Five hundred invitations have gone out. All of Philadelphia society will be there. And I feel like I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one even looks."
"Do you love him?" That question sets me back. I'm suddenly furious with her for asking such a thing. How dare she!
"Pardon me?" It's the only thing I can think to say, because no one would ask that.
"Do you love him?" There it is again.
"You're being very rude, you shouldn't be asking me this." I know I'm being defensive, but I can't help it, I don't want to answer that question, because if I say it out loud I feel I might shatter on the spot.
"It's an easy question." She cocks her head to one side. "Do you love him, or not?"
"This is not a suitable conversation!"
"Why can't you just answer me?"
I walk away from her, laughing. "This is absurd! You don't know me, and I don't know you, and we are not having this conversation! You are rude, and uncouth, and presumptuous, and I am leaving, right now." I stick my hand out for her to shake, and she takes it, grinning. "Brittany… Miss Pierce, it's been a pleasure. I looked for you to thank you, and now I have thanked you."
"And you've insulted me."
"Well, you deserved it!" It's a childish comeback, and I know that.
"Right."
"Right."
"I thought you were leaving?" We're still shaking hands.
"I am!" I let go of her hand and start to walk away, before turning back. "You are so annoying!" I turn again, then remember. "Wait! I don't have to leave, this is my part of the ship! You leave!"
"Now who's being rude?" She raises her eyebrows at me.
Not being able to think of anything to say, I grab the folder she's carried all day. "What is this?" I open it, see some drawings inside. "So what are you, an artist or something?" These drawings are amazing, and I move to sit down so I can look at them properly. "These are rather good." I flip through a couple more, and she sits next to me. "They're really good, actually."
"Brittany, this is amazing work." She blushes slightly, and looks down, which I find extremely adorable.
"They didn't think too much of them in Paris."
"Paris? My you do get around, for a po…" I stop talking, realising what I'd said. "For a person of lesser means."
She laughs. "You can say it, for a poor person."
I flip through to the next drawing, finding a naked woman looking back at me from the person. "Well, well, well" she looks embarrassed. "And these were drawn from life?"
"That's one of the good things about Paris, lots of girls willing to take their clothes off."
I flip through a couple more, stopping to look at a close up of a woman used in a lot of the drawings. "You liked this woman, you used her several times." I decide to push, see if my growing suspicions about Brittany are true. "You must have had a love affair with her."
She doesn't seem fazed by my words. "No, just her hands… She had beautiful hands, see?" She turns the page, showing me another drawing. "She was a one legged prostitute." She flips another page. "See?" She laughs. "She had a good sense of humour though."
I look at her like I'm really seeing her for the first time, she's so much more complex than I'd ever thought. She leans over, close enough for me to smell, and flips the page again. She smells like lavender.
"And this woman, she used to sit at this bar, every night, wearing every piece of jewellery she owned, just waiting for her long lost love" her eyes look sad. "We called her Madame Bijoux, see her clothes are all moth eaten?"
"Well, you have a gift, Brittany." I smile a little. "You do. You see people."
"I see you."
"And?" I sit up a little straight, smiling slightly at her.
"You wouldn't have jumped." My face falls slightly.