The remaining day was all but a blur to the woman, a mash of nauseating colors and spinning tales that meant little at all. By the time the flock of married first classmen had finally finished their dinner, Odette realized the entire day had passed her by, but she couldn't recall anything past the morning. The men retired to the Smoke Room while the women began their migration to the Lounge. Odette had her fill of the passengers and decided, then, to excuse herself with a spout of the first excuse that entered her mind. She informed the others of an oncoming headache. After insisting she simply needed rest and would have been fine traversing the halls and back to her room safely on her own, they allowed her to go.

That is where Odette found herself now, wandering the Titanic corridors completely lost. At one moment she had found the way back to the Lounge, but argued over risking embarrassment of returning. She had been so adamant that she could find her room without help and she had no desire to return, only to listen to their chistizings. Now, she regretted her decision to not ask for help when she had the chance. She hadn't a clue where she was. Every hallway and door looked the same and none of the markings on the walls were familiar. When she tried to trace the numbers of the doors, she was only further confused. It was like she had wandered into a grand, inescapable maze with no exits.

Odette rounded another corner thinking it was the way back to the Lounge, but it only led to an unfamiliar staircase. Distraught, the woman groaned and buried her face into her palms, her shoulder blades hitting the wall behind her harshly. As though she had been struck, Odette hissed and jumped from the wall, her aching back now throbbing. She groaned in both annoyance and pain and gently massaged her already tender flesh, glaring at the darkened floor below her feet as though it were the culprit of her predicament.

"Is everything alright?"

Odette jumped, her mouth choked by a silent scream at the sudden voice as she backed herself away and into a corner. From the top of the staircase, she saw black, shining boots and dark blue pant legs. She let out a sigh of relief at the sight of the familiar uniform, her shoulders dropping as her tension eased. However, when the officer ducked his head and peered down the stairs at her, she felt her breath hitch once more. She was looking at a stranger.

"Are you alright, miss?" the man questioned again, causing Odette to stutter as she tried to make herself look more presentable in the presence of the unfamiliar officer.

"Oh, quite alright," she insisted while brushing down her dress, feeling greatly flustered.

The officer raised a brow, the corners of his lips twitching. "Expecting someone else?"

Her eyes widened at the accusation. "No, no! Just… a bit lost."

"Lost?"

"It appears so, yes," she snipped, growing annoyed.

"Well I can help with that!" the Welsh officer jumped down the last two steps and offered her his arm. Odette regarded the man suspiciously. He looked more like a boy in a man's uniform. His face was sculpted and handsome with dark eyes and hair to match his youth. He stood nearly a head taller than Odette, and when she looked up at him, his smooth face held a charming, although a tad bit coy, smile. "Fifth Officer Lowe, at your service, miss."

"Odette Anouilh," she murmured and took him by the elbow, her arms stiff with wariness. "Room B thirty-nine, please."

"You're pretty far off from B thirty-nine, miss. Just follow me, I'll get you squared away." The two began to walk down the corridors, in the opposite direction Odette had been headed, she realized hotly. How she had strayed so far from the path, she was not sure, but surely the blame should be held on her nuisance thoughts that never seemed to linger on the priority at hand. Odette kept her eyes deplorably downcasted, forcing her mind to only think of Officer Lowe's shoes in step with her own, thumping the ground and sending echos trembling through the silent halls. The man seemed heavy footed, nearly stomping when compared to her own softly clicking heels. He showed no sign of anger or annoyance in his demeanor, she thankfully noticed. In fact, whenever the woman would chance a glance, she saw that he held a pleasant, carefree smile even still. He certainly gave off characteristics of a young man - possibly younger than her - and she couldn't help but to wonder what feats he had accomplished to earn his rank of Fifth Officer.

"Still searching for the other officer, are we?" he suddenly asked, and it took Odette a moment to realize that she had been caught staring. The young woman stuttered, struck of her words as the man raised an intrigued brow at the sounds of her stammering. "Which one is it, might I ask? Lightoller, perhaps? Well, I'd wager he's a bit old for you. Perhaps young Moody, then?" Odette gasped, her cheeks heating with every insinuation he tossed so indifferently her way. She could only manage to shake her head, too stunned to speak. "It's alright, miss," he insisted with a short chuckle. "Most of us sailors fancy a woman on their journeys. No shame in it. Although, I wouldn't get attached if I were you."

"How dare you!" she snapped, finally discovering her voice. It was a bit louder than she had intended, though not completely unwanted as her fury seethed. "The very idea of the thought! I've not grown attached to anyone, Officer, I can assure you, and I do not care for such insinuations. Certainly a friendship can not always mean an attachment!"

The officer stopped in his tracks, his eyes rounded by her outburst. His mouth parted to say something, though nothing was spoken for a long moment until he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, miss. I did not mean to offend, truly… That's simply the way it is on voyages."

"Well, you're wrong," she huffed, shook him off his hold on her arm, and stormed off down the hall. She heard him follow her, though she was yet to allow him to speak his part. "Not every officer is as abashing as you, Monsieur!"

"Miss, please stop," he begged her, trying to take hold of her again, though she flicked away her wrist and rounded on the man, finally coming to a stop. Sticking out her hip in a certainly unladylike way, Odette firmly crossed her arms and waited for his response, her chest heaving and nostrils flaring. The poor man looked right ashamed of himself. His head hung low and he twiddled his fingers from behind his back. "I don't know much of the crew," he grumbled through a low, steadied voice of reluctance. "This is my first time sailing with the lot. I meant no offense to either you or them."

As soon as it had taken her, Odette was suddenly settled of her anger. Her shoulders slouched and her clenched jaw relaxed, her chest swelling quickly with shame at her harsh reaction. She was not even sure why she had reacted the way she did in the first place. Odette had never been one for outbursts, especially with strangers. His words had undoubtedly struck something within her and she lashed out with little thought to her actions, and she deeply regretted them now. "I apologize, Officer. I was far too rude with my assumption of your words."

His face rose, his smile beginning to remit. "I deserved it, surely. I tend to speak my mind without thought."

"Not always a distasteful trait, mind you," she smiled softly in turn at the familiar use of words. The officer offered his arm once more, surely his way of requesting a redue of their meeting. Odette could not stop herself from sending the man a small glare of warning. Still, she took a breath and returned her hold on his arm. Once more, the two started down the hallway.

As they walked, Odette's head raced with what had just transpired. What if it was true, that Will only fancied a pretty face? What if he was simply playing at being kind to her, and nothing of what he said was true? She wasn't sure why this affected her so much. Her hands grew clammy and a headache began to settle. What would it matter to her if a man spun fantastical tales that meant nothing at all, especially when she would only know him for a few days time? Still, her chest felt awfully heavy and her heartbeat quickened uncomfortably as Will's soft words discussing wondrous stories echoed in her ears. Images flashed of a passionate blue flame flickering within the orbs of his eyes. She thought of the way he managed to smile even when his lips remained stilled. She did not believe that it had all been a lie. Even so, she knew that, despite their most recent conversation, she did not really know him. Somehow, that hurt her even more.

She could not keep her mouth shut any longer, for remaining silent seemed far more painful than saying whatever ridiculous words she might speak. She had to find out the truth. "Officer," she spoke up hesitantly. "Do you happen to know the First Officer?"

"Will? Sure, I've spoken with him enough. A bit on the stoic side, I'd say." Odette nearly laughed when she heard that. It was such a surprise, hearing Will compared to being stoical. She could understand on some level, from their first meeting at the docks and at the dinner from the night before, though their leading interactions seemed quite the opposite. Unknowingly, Odette had been caught snickering by Officer Lowe, who nudged her with a chuckle. "I believe I've figured which man you had mistaken me for." The woman averted her gaze and covered her face with a hand, unable to speak. Officer Lowe shook his head at her reaction, though his meaningful grin lacked the accusatory piercing she had expected, which eased the tension from her arms. "Will's a good man. A fine man. Surely the honor of a sailor is defined by Will and what I've said before questioning a sailor's integrity was not intended for him. It's a shame what happened."

"Pardon?" her questioning eyes flashed up to his.

Taken aback by his words, Officer Lowe nervously fixed the collar of his suit, his smile now strained. "Well, he was supposed to be the Chief Officer, though there was a last minute change and the whole crew got switched around. Henry Wilde took his place as Chief."

"Oh, that must have been an awful adjustment," Odette mumbled thickly, now feeling even more shame for how she had treated Officer Lowe before. She never thought of the troubles the crew faced or the stress of working on a ship, especially one as glorious as the Titanic. And Will… He was so prideful and confident, looking upon the ship as though it were his own grand creation. She could not bear to imagine how he might have felt to be dropped in rank so suddenly. "I'm sorry," was all she could say further.

"Oh, it's not a problem, miss. We're happy to be here either way. I know Will was disappointed at first, though he seemed in much better spirits when I last saw the bloke." Before Odette could understand what he had last said or take meaning behind his wink, they came to a stop before a door. Odette blinked in surprise, only just recognizing the hallway they were in. "B thirty-nine, correct?"

"Oh, yes, thank you very much, Officer." She unhooked her arm from his and went to the door, then stopped. "Officer, would you pass on a message for me?"

"Of course," he nodded.

"Tell Officer Murdoch that I appreciate all of the officer's tirelessness and I admire their work upon the Titanic. Tell him I await our next meeting with great earnest."

The officer tipped his hat with another wink. "Of course, miss. You have a wonderful evening."

Once safely inside her room, Odette changed into an evening gown and unpinned the complicated braids in her hair, hoping that, if she were to look discomposed, she would not be bothered to leave her room again. The night previous, Clovis had retired to the Smoke Room. Upon his return, he tried convincing his wife to follow him back to the Smoke Room in order to give his friends a private dance. Odette declined, stating she was feeling under the weather with an aching head. After some choice words, her husband, who had already had a few too many brandys, gave in and returned to the Smoke Room alone. Odette was grateful for the many hours of peace that followed, even as the silence was filled with the sound of her sniffling and the raw feeling of the tears upon her cheeks was uncomfortable. She did not wish to dance for a room full of drunken fools for the sake of her husband's pride. Ballet is beautiful and precious, something that speaks from one's very soul and tells stories one shall not dare say aloud. Ballet should be protected from corruption at all costs. If she had danced for those intoxicated animals, she would have placed the sin upon herself without hesitance. Now, all she had to do was wait and pray that he would not request her presence in the Smoke Room tonight.

As Odette removed her dress, she felt something fall on top of her bare toe that made her jump. When she found the object, however, it was only a folded piece of paper. Memories of Will's teachings in the Marconi Room flooded her thoughts as she gently picked up the paper between her dainty fingers. Unraveling the folds, Odette was careful not to smear his writing. The sight of the man's scrawling brought a smile to Odette's lips. It was certainly a man's penmanship; scratchy, haphazard, and blotched. Although, Odette found it strangely endearing and intricate in its own way. As her eyes scanned the mass of letters, dots, and dashes, a sudden idea emerged. Taking a seat before her vanity, Odette rested her elbow against the wood table so that the paper was eye level. With her right hand, she pointed a shaky finger, hovering as she thought of what word she should practice first.

Just then, the hallway door opened and Odette flinched. As fast as lightning could manage, her fist clenched the note away within her palm and she shoved her hand under her thin thigh, using the white silk fabric of her nightwear to hide away her beloved letter. To the woman's great relief, it was only Simone. The young blonde was flushed as red as a strawberry and her brown eyes refused to make contact with Odette, though Odette could hardly even notice as she recovered from her scare. After a small greeting, Simone rushed towards the opposite side of the room where she retrieved the basket of freshly washed clothes that had been dropped off by a steward earlier in the day. The maid began to fold what was already dry, leaving the damp clothes to hang for later.

After the scare had gone, Odette wagered whether or not she should continue with her practice. She knew she could trust her maid, yet at the same time, she did not know if Simone would understand. Odette did not understand her actions either, and knew she would have an even harder time explaining them. After a few silent minutes, Simone began to hum a song Odette recognized with a suspicious revelation as Fascination by Maurice de Féraudy. It was a fitting song, the lyrics blindingly similar to Odette's own fascinations. By the small, absentminded swaying of Simone, she knew the song was not only mirroring herself. With a short sigh and shake of her head, Odette carefully brought out the piece of paper once more.

With one last glance to her distracted maid, Odette began to gently tap on her vanity, practicing and memorizing quietly. She tried multiple different words, including names and simple greetings. She would repeat a single word over and over again, silently chanting a mantra of dots and dashes until they were etched into her memory. Then she would hide the paper under the table and tap again until she no longer had to glance at Will's writing for help. The words soon strung into small sentences. They were not as smoothly tapped as she would have liked and she was sure she had missed a few letters, but when she finished her first sentence without the complete help of the paper, Odette nearly jumped with an overwhelming joy.

"What is that insistent tapping?" Simone suddenly sniffed, her eyes grazing suspiciously across the room. Odette paused, only just realizing that, in her excitement, she had begun to tap an audible noise. "Monsieur Anouilh will be most displeased if we were to have a mouse."

"It is not a mouse, Simone." Odette spun about her chair, her eyes wide. If Simone spoke of a mouse, it would only lead to future trouble with Clovis and the staff, so she might as well come clean. Even with her hesitation, Odette's hands began to tremble with a growing eagerness to share her secret workings. "I've learned a new language!"

Odette was met only by a furrowed brow. "Another language? Madame, you haven't spoken a word!"

"I've no need to!" she insisted. "I can speak through the ship and ships can speak with me all through my tapping!"

Simone brought her hands to her chest, fear creeping through her dark, innocent eyes. "Should I be worried?" she murmured not unlike a mouse, almost cowering away from Odette. The dark haired woman scoffed and rolled her eyes at her maid's misplaced distress.

"It's only Morse Code, Simone."

"Ah," the young girl nodded her head and her body relaxed. "That is what the sailors use to speak. Do they not use flashing lights?"

"Oh, it's much more than that! They use a telegraph. It appears as a sewing machine, though when you tap it, it makes words, same as the flashing lights! Look, I've got the alphabet," she retrieved the piece of paper from her lap, handing it to Simone. The young girl took the paper and squinted her eyes as she read it, her nose wrinkling lightly.

"Looks like a child's scrawling."

"Here," Odette took the paper back from Simone and placed it upon her dresser. Looking over the page, Odette began to tap. To her great delight, she was much quicker in spelling now and only missed a few dots. Once she was done, she returned her eyes to Simone expectantly. "I spelled your name! See; dot, dot, dot, dot dot, dash dash, dash, dash, dash, dash dot, dot!"

"I'm afraid it merely sounds like gibberish," Simone shrugged lightly and Odette's face fell. Simone sighed through a soft smile. "I'm happy you've found yourself something to occupy your mind, Madame."

"Just as you?" Odette couldn't help but to tease. As she suspected, Simone flushed and her fingers nervously combed through her long hair.

"Monsieur Tommy was only being helpful."

"Ah, so the stranger has a name!" Odette could not hide her giggle, despite knowing she must have been acting like a young school girl, teasing and pestering so insistently. The pay off of Simone's bashful, flickering brown eyes and nervous blush was too grand to pass. Before Odette could allow herself to question the maid any further, the front door busted open with a harsh slam which caused the women to flinch away in fear, though thoroughly silenced.

The smooth, playful atmosphere was sucked from the room almost suffocatingly so, leaving Odette's lungs to ache as both her heart and body froze as if petrified by stone. The stench of brandy and cigars ebbed through the open doorway, emanating from a dark looming shadow as though the devil himself stood there. When the creature took its first, wobbly step within the room, however, the dull lamps flickered like fire against the shallowed cheeks of Clovis. Carefully, Odette slid her hands onto her lap and under the vanity, masking her note from her husband's sight. He walked past her on heavy, undercalculated steps that sent her insides curling like a mass of snakes. He paused, his eyes as harsh as glass shards as he stared down his nose at the woman, who only bowed her head and avoided eye contact as respectfully as she could despite her trembling legs. The muscles of her calves shook so terribly that she feared he would somehow see through her draping dress, though the more she tried to restrain the involuntary movements, the more violent the tremors became.

Clovis looked down upon her for many long, agonizing seconds, scrutinizing her very being. The poor, pitiful woman could do nothing but remain still, silently praying for a whole into the depths of the ocean would sweep her away. With a rough, staled huff, Clovis ran a heavy hand through his sweat-filled hair and stumbled into the bedroom, where he slammed the door with such a force that Odette wondered if the hinges would shatter. There was a pause, pregnant with unease as the two women refused to remove their eyes from the floor.

Then, without a word, Simone folded and put away the last dried pair of trousers and retreated to her own room, which was adjacent to Odette's, though was merely the size of a broom closet. Odette would have rathered a broom closet, but chastised herself for thinking in such a way. As quiet as dropped cotton, the ballet dancer crept upon the tips of her toes towards her bedroom. Clovis had already taken to the grand mattress, laying upon his stomach with his arms and legs splayed out in odd angles as he snored like a rumbling bear in waiting. He had not even changed from his evening clothes, which had been thoroughly soiled by his evening festivities.

Taking in a breath to sooth her frazzled nerves, Odette picked the edge of the comforter and lifted it just enough to give herself room to crawl between the covers. She eased her body in, her brow furrowed deeply in concentration. Once safely under, she halted again; her pointed ears perked for any signs of disturbance from the man at her back. He gave a great sigh and shifted, then moved no more. Odette exhaled heavily, her face relaxing with her relief, even as her shoulders remained taught. After many dragging minutes, Odette's fingers released from their tight grip, revealing the note they clung to so desperately. Her emerald eyes gazed across the hasty scribbles intently, then she carefully placed the paper into her pillowcase. Odette stared blankly at the opposite walls, watching nothing through the darkness as she lulled herself into a restless sleep by the soft vibrations of her fingers tapping the smooth mattress.