A/N: Terribly sorry this took so long and the chapter is so short! At first, this chapter was dragged out to over twelve pages and I still had not finished, so I decided to split it into two chapters. If the ending seems muddled or sudden, that is the reason. The next chapter should be out soon!

After Odette and Officer Murdoch had left the Marconi Room, the two set out down the halls, speaking easily of the magnificent decor and beautiful designs of the complicated ship's layout. Odette found it odd how effortlessly she fell into conversation of such seemingly mundane things. It reminded her much of her husband's chattering of his company and what new fantastical creation he was aiding. Even when Clovis eagerly retold how his steel would be a part of not only the Titanic, but her sister ship the Olympic as well, Odette found it all a dull annoyance. Now, it was not dull at all. In fact, Odette was strung by the officer's every word, hung by his spiraling, courteous voice that never diminished. She admired his enthusiasm, even when she understood little of what he said. She adored the glowing pride held within his handsome features as he looked upon the passengers of the deck. Odette's perked ears even picked up on his accent steadily becoming more noticeable the more he spoke, all of which put the woman under a mesmerizing spell she did not care to break.

It came to a point where Odette would catch herself staring at the man for a second too long, or was lost in the sounds of his voice rather than what words he spoke, yet she was never chastised for this even though she was sure she had been caught many times. It was something she was sorely unaccustomed to, her company openly choosing to refrain from correcting her behavior, and she found that the more she got away with a lasting stare that strayed from innocence or her shoulder brushing his a bit too many times to be considered an accident, the more she repeated the actions. At first, she felt wholly uncomfortable and guilty for allowing herself to get away with such things. When she noticed he was doing much the same, though, she allowed herself to completely fall into a state of simple tranquility without any worries of punishment.

The early morning sun quickly dwindled towards noon, passing them by far too quickly for Odette's liking. She hadn't noticed the time until Officer Murdoch checked his watch and gave sudden haste, stating he would be returning to his duties soon. As much as Odette wished to remain with the officer for just a bit longer, she politely agreed that he should return her to her handmaid's side. She would not allow her selfishness to come in the way of a man's work, and she doubted a man such as this officer would succumb to such a thing. So, the officer escorted her back to the Aft of the ship. Even with their limited time, Odette noticed that his strides were shortened and slowed, and not in any way of a man allowing his madame to keep in step. Their walk could have been considered more of a stroll as the two leaserly took their time, speaking in hushed tones that began to stray from matters of the ship. It wasn't until the officer asked of her family that she realized what he was trying to do; he wanted to draw out their time together for as long as he could, and she was perfectly agreeable with that.

"My family is originally from Strasbourg," Odette was saying, answering the officer's new inquiries of her homage. "It is on the border of Germany. My mother was German, and she required us to speak only German in the house."

"Us?" he asked. He was prying for further clarification and her shoulders grew tense. He meant no harm, Odette was sure. Although, he knew not of what he was uncovering. She did not mind speaking of family matters with Officer Murdoch, though some things were better left unsaid, especially for the ears of a stranger. Hoping he had not caught her small hesitance, Odette shrugged and gave her best simplistic answer.

"My sister Collete. Although, she was far more fluent in German than I."

"I'm sure you speak the language beautifully. Better than I, I'd wager," the end of his sentence was spoken through a quick chuckle. Odette laughed the same, ignoring her blush at the words his jesting failed to hide. The officer cleared his throat and fixed his hat and Odette wondered if he, too, felt flustered by his own words. The very idea made her smile somewhat triumphantly, though she could not pinpoint the reason why she felt so happy at this. Maybe it was the flashing image of the confident officer looking just as ruffled in her presence as she was by him.

Shaking herself of this foolish thought, Odette redirected his own question. "And what of you, Officer? Although dull, I'm sure my story has earned one in turn."

"Ah," the man gave a coquettish hum, "indeed, it has, but I will only give what I am given."

Odette couldn't stop the roll of her green eyes. "Pas cher," she mumbled, yet could not deny his truth. She gave him a nod to continue.

"I was born in Dalbeattie in Kirkcudbrightshire."

"Is that even english?"

"No, it's Scottish."

Odette lightly slapped his arm as Officer Murdoch laughed at his own joke. "As I've said before, you are truly discourteous. And a Scot! I should have known."

"Careful, Madam Odette," he waved a finger and tutted. "Scots are very proud people."

The woman raised a brow. "You've returned the use of my first name?"

"As we have exchanged pleasantries of first names already, I thought it only appropriate. Especially if we are to speak of our personal lives with confidence."

Odette mulled over these words. It certainly would have been viewed as inappropriate to discuss such personal subjects with a stranger. Were they strangers, she wondered? What he said was true; they had already traded names. Perhaps they were not yet friends, though that certainly made them more than strangers. "Refrain from calling me Madame, Officer William. You make me sound like an old maid."

"I shall, if only you would call me Will," he winked. Odette bit her lip, her eyes flickering down as she fought against the urge to smile too widely.

"Yes, well," her voice broke and she forced herself to swallow, "it is settled, then. We will refer to one another by first names when in closed company."

"As you wish, Odette."

Odette's mind went momentarily blank at the sound of her name escaping his lips without restraint. It was just her name, spoken sweetly with a delighted smile, yet her heart leapt as though no one had ever spoken her name before. She decided, then, that she never wanted to hear anyone else mutter that name unless it was by him, and him alone. Her head swam and her feet felt light as though the ocean had swept her away, cradling her within its arms of a vast emptiness that somehow made her feel warm.

The woman felt altogether silly for even thinking of speaking his name in turn, for surely it would pail in comparison to the way he voiced her own. Luckily, before she could further humiliate herself for being struck so dumbly, the officer informed her that they had returned to where they had left Simone. Odette was eternally grateful that the conversation was momentarily forgotten and she now had time to compose herself, however, she and Officer Murdoch came to a swift and sudden stop at the sight that greeted them.

There was a man seated besides Simone. The stranger was dressed in an inexpensive brown suit and his curly blonde hair seemed ungroomed from beneath his hat and his chin bore untrimmed whiskers. Odette felt somewhat uncomfortable, seeing an obvious second class man - maybe even third class - so openly flaunting himself among the first class passengers. How he was even allowed upon this deck, she hadn't a clue. Then she saw the way Simon reacted to his insistent speaking, Irish words Odette could not hear, but witnessed the aftermath of.

Simone was doing her best at keeping her back straight and proper while her face remained positioned away from the man, but when he would lean in closer to her, whispering something in her ear, her resolve would crumble. A snort of laughter Odette had never heard the maid make before escaped. Simone quickly covered her lips with her gloved hand and repositioned herself, struggling to keep her resolve. This happened a few times, completely oblivious of any one who passed them by as they not so subtly enjoyed the other's company.

Without realizing it herself, Odette had begun to smile at the two's interaction, despite not knowing what their conversation was about. Her heart was uplifted, seeing her dear, meek handmaid truthfully enjoying herself for the moment. The Irish stranger whispered another jest, to which Simone gasped and lightly slapped his knee, freeing her own giggles from their gloved cage. Odette chuckled, too. Instinctively she touched her fingertips to her lips, stopping the sound. Her eyes flickered to the officer at her side, embarrassed. Officer Murdoch's eyebrows raised in mock surprise, then he chuckled and shook his head. "Young love," he said and Odette felt her mind and body freeze.

"Pardon?" she managed to mumble, her throat suddenly feeling quite dry. The officer took no notice of her new suspension. He simply smiled his crooked, mischievous smile and gestured to the two giggling Titanic passengers seated on the bench.

"Your handmaid seems to be quite taken with that man."

Odette was quick to fix herself. "O-oh, yes, indeed," she nodded. How foolish her thoughts were. For a moment, she believed he was speaking of someone other than Simone. Just like that, the tips of her ears were warm once more.

The officer did not allow the woman to remain in her state of sheepishness. He reminded her of his oncoming duties and started his bids of farewell. "Will we continue our tour in the morning?"

"Yes, we shall. I've enjoyed our time together, Officer- Will," she corrected herself, but he caught her slip. He raised a brow, though the look upon his face showed no signs of agitation or disrespect. In fact, he looked rather pleased with himself.

"As have I, Odette." He bowed his head in a single nod, unknowing of how her heart's beating seemed to fly like the hooves of a horse against cobblestone. The two stood still, unmoving, unsure of how to properly end their meeting. Without a thought, Odette offered the man her hand. He took it, her slender fingers slipping easily into his much larger grip, the fabric of her gloves momentarily catching against his rough calluses. He leaned down to eye level with the woman and he placed a kiss upon her knuckles. It was gentle and caused her flesh to burn, his bright ocean eyes never once wavering from the sight of her own. Odette forgot how to breathe. Her heart throbbed so vastly from within her ears that she worried the entire deck would hear.

Then the moment was gone, replaced with the image of his reefer jacket and Starline cap disappearing into the morning crowd. Odette remained for many seconds, her heart thudding oddly as she forced her lungs to release their shaky grip on the air. She watched him go until she could see him no longer, then waited further. It was only when she heard the choir of laughter behind her that she remembered why she was here in the first place. Brushing away nonexistent dirt from her dress and straightening her shawl, Odette regained her bearings and returned to Simone's side.

Once she was sure her flush was gone and her clothes were not disheveled, Odette peaked her head over Simone's thin shoulder and spoke. "I'm terribly sorry for the interruption," she said, her voice a few octaves louder than normal so as to capture the two's attention. It worked perfectly. The stranger instantly bounced back and away from Simone while the blonde woman jumped from within her skin with a short squeak of surprise. Odette had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing at their reactions, watching as they nervously tried to settle themselves. "Simone, I would like to have my lunch now," Odette continued with a quirked brow. "I'm sure your stomach would agree." As if on cue, the maid's stomach grumbled loudly. The girl's soft face beamed red. Her hand ran through her blonde hair anxiously while the man beside her snickered, fighting and failing to conceal his cocky chuckle. Odette took Simone by the hand and helped the girl to her feet. "I thank you for watching over my handmaid and lifting her spirits," she said to the stranger, who also stood.

"'Tis no trouble at all," he shrugged. Odette was correct in her assumptions that he was, indeed, Irish, and most certainly not first class by the sound of his thick drawl. Neither of which bothered her too terribly anymore, but when he took her by the hand to place a kiss, she wanted to recoil from his touch. He did not bring the same warmth the officer's farewell had, and regrettably, part of her felt disgust. Not with the man himself, but for the simple fact that he was touching the last place Will had. Thankfully, the man did not linger on Odette for long. He offered his hand to Simone, to which the girl took. "The lass is a true treasure," he said and placed his lips to her knuckles. Simone's feet shuffled as though she might crumble to the floor at any tremble of the ship, her dark eyes as round as dinner plates and striking against her blush. As if knowing his effect on the girl, a devilish smirk spread across the stranger's boyish face. Then, he removed his hat, gave it a twirl as he bowed a bit dramatically, then bid his goodbyes to the women.

With the stranger gone, Odette looked upon her maid, curious and riveted as she studied the girl. Simone took no notice as her eyes remained in search of the Irishman, completely ignorant of her Madame. "He's a lively fellow, isn't he?" Odette said with a cheeky beam that was possibly too obvious. Simone jumped ever so slightly, her eyes bouncing back to Odette's, her round cheeks as red as scarlet lipstick. Odette hummed lightly in laughter as she hooked her arm in Simone's, urging the maid forward. "Come. Let us see what divine meal the Titanic has to offer for the noon hour."

The women made a quick stop by Odette's room to freshen up before luncheon. Since they would most likely stay inside for the remainder of the day, Odette replaced her shawl for a necklace of beads before removing her gloves to touch up her makeup. She always despised gloves and made the decision to forget them on her desk, but then she recalled Will's lingering kiss. Maybe, she told herself nonchalantly, she did not hate these gloves quite as much as she first had. Choosing to instead not leave them out in the open, she placed them carefully inside the drawer of her vanity along with Will's note. Once the women were finished and well hungered, they left for D deck towards the dining saloon. There they reunited with Clovis and Frédéric, as well as Marcel and his wife and some other friends Odette hardly recognized.

The day continued on just as Odette would have expected. Thankfully without a dance from Odette, the luncheon came to an end and the group went their separate ways. Clovis left to join the men in either the Gymnasium or Squash Court; she couldn't recall which. Odette followed her fellow wives to the Café Parisien. Despite Odette's hidden displeasure, Simone departed from her Madame, abandoning Odette with the first class women she should have remembered, though only just recalled the features of their faces. One of the women, a rather portly older lady with a mass of short brunette curls wearing a brilliant navy blue dress lined with gold jewels, was annoyed with the choice of location for their evening. Even the piled mass of odd colored makeup did little to hide her sneer.

She wished to go to the Verandah Café as its decor reminded her much of the English countryside from which she hailed, rather than the Café Parisien, which resembled that of a modern Paris. Another woman dressed in a lavish red gown which highlighted her tightly curled ginger hair - Odette thought her name was Ruth - reminded the group of the children who had all but taken over the Verandah as their personal playroom. The women collectively curled their lips, disgusted by whatever foolish first class passengers had rudely brought their offspring to ruin their passage to America. Odette fought against the urge to remind the woman that, she too, had brought a daughter, if only due to the fact that she couldn't be sure of the girl's age.

Odette said nothing, even as the topic of conversation changed from that of the obnoxious children they had not seen. She tried to do her part, reminiscing of past events she couldn't recall, speaking of the finances of their husbands' companies and pointing out which recent, undeserving first class women came from new money. Try as she might, Odette was elsewhere. The chattering of the ladies and the extravagances of the conversations did little to ease her buzzing thoughts. Her mind seemed to derail from the course of horderves and fashion to her lovely morning stroll. The First Officer had spoken so fondly of the make of the walls surrounding her that even the linoleum flooring beneath her heels and draping of the windows brought an interest to her. Her mind trailed to wonderings of angered waters demanding the presence of breast to the talking ships of the sea. And, if most absurd, she remembered the brightness Will held when speaking of such unimaginable things.

She even thought of the children. She would not have minded them. In fact, Odette quite enjoyed children. She did have a longing more for infants rather than the ones that could walk, but she still found them better conversationalists than the twittering women seated around her. When she was young, Odette often dreamed of one day bearing a son or daughter to call her own. Now the very idea made her feel sick. After all, she reminded herself, Clovis did not care for the idea of children.

That was not true, she corrected herself. Clovis would have adored a son. However, with Odette's family history of frequent girls, Clovis did not completely trust that Odette would give him his son. That was why they had decided to wait until they reached America to have children. Supposedly, there was an American doctor that knew of a treatment for women that would increase their ability to bear sons. Odette did not believe a word of Clovis' stories of this mysterious, miraculous doctor that no one else seemed to know of, but she kept her mouth shut all the same. It would do her no good to voice any of her concerns, for surely Clovis knew more than she.

Odette sighed inwardly, her green eyes locked onto her lap as her fingers fumbled absentmindedly. Her elbow brushed against the fabric of her lovely dress and her ears perked at the sound similar to that of scrapping paper. The memory of the note received from Will entered her mind and she smiled, the silent mantra of 'dot, dot, dash,' swirling her mind as her fingers began to tap against her knees.