That night at dinner, he was absolutely bored. Charles was leading the conversation, as he often did, at the table. Max was trying very hard not to zone out completely, but considering the conversation was so dull he was having difficulty.
Such was the burden of the wealthy.
He hated it, really. Hated the frivolity, the vapidness. It was part of the reason he had never married before. All the women of his status were only interested in the finest clothes, the latest gossip. They were all superficial. Well, most of them.
His eyes drifted to Ororo, a dear friend who was on board with them. She was a diplomat from a far off country, her husband a respected leader. Ororo was what most called 'new money', but Max enjoyed her company. He found her view of the world much like his own.
Well, his true view of the world.
He put on a facade, the cold and aloof man from Germany who only cared about his family's business, about the legacy he was born into. But that was the mask he wore, to hide the truth. He didn't care about the money, the material things. He was an artist at heart, a poet. He craved more out of life than what he was surrounded with, what was expected of him.
Cassandra, though a beautiful, young heiress in America, was someone he had never met. She came from a good family, and, if she accepted, the marriage would be one of financial gain more than anything. Her inheritance from her father combined with the Eisenhardt fortune would make for a powerful force both in America and in Europe.
But it would not be a marriage of love.
The voices at the table seemed to drown out around him, and he barely remembered excusing himself from the table to take a walk.
He walked along the enclosed promenade, the night air cold and crisp, which suited him just fine. His shoes thumped lightly against the wood floor, barely audible over the sea waves. His thoughts were as tumultuous as the waters, but they were soon cut short by a sound that intrigued him.
Laughter.
The noise was coming from the stern of the ship, and the closer he got, he could make out that it was a higher pitch, definitely from a woman. As he climbed the stairs from the well deck, curious more than anything because why the hell not, he could start to make out the figures on the stern. A young man with dark hair stood nearby, watching.
But it was the woman who captured Max's attention.
She had curls of red and white, like a fox that had just popped its head out of the snow. Her laughter and her voice were melodic almost, and she was standing against the rail of the stern.
In that moment, Max could have sworn she was a siren of the sea itself.
He watched from afar, curious about this woman who seemed to radiate a carefree beauty and confidence.
"Anna Marie, you are crazy!" Kurt chuckled.
"Ah'm not crazy, ah'm adventurous. Come on, it can't be that bad." She beckoned her brother towards her.
"Alright, but if you fall, you're on your own. I can't promise I will jump in after you!"
She climbed up the first rung of the railing, holding on as the wind whipped her hair about, the dark sea below so intimidating. She looked up and hesitantly let go of the rail, holding out her hands and arms as if she would take flight at any moment. She smiled as she stood there, feeling like she was on top of the world.
"Chère! What are you doing?!" A voice she knew called out to her, startling her.
She slipped, and the next thing she knew she was going over the railing. She managed to grab the railing as she screamed, and Kurt rushed to her side.
She was holding on with both hands, but the railing was slippery.
"Take my hand, sister!"
She reached for his hand just as a stranger came to Kurt's side, offering a hand to her.
"I've got one hand, you take the other." The white haired man told Kurt.
She reached for this man's outstretched hand, and they both pulled her back over the railing, until she was safely back on the ship.

"Sister, are you alright?" Kurt asked, holding onto her.
She nodded, and was looking around. She knew she heard Remy's voice. "Ah…ah'm fine…."
"You should be more careful, Miss. The ice on the railings is very slick." The man who had helped pull her to safety spoke, and she looked up. She was met with the clearest blue eyes she'd ever seen, icy almost. His hair was white and short, and he had a somewhat stern expression on his face.
"Ah….ah suppose ah owe ya a thank you….Mister…?"
"Eisenhardt. Max Eisenhardt."
"Mister Eisenhardt. Thank you. Ah….am usually not this clumsy." She chuckled.
He nodded in acknowledgement. "I am just glad I was close by."
Kurt extended his hand to the man. "Thank you, Mister Eisenhardt. I wish I could repay you for your kindness, but-"
"Please, no need. I am just glad she is alright." He shook Kurt's hand. "You are a good brother, looking out for her."
Kurt nodded to him before turning to Anna Marie. "Come on….let's head down for the night, before you come up with another adventurous idea."
She rolled her eyes at him before nodding to the stranger. "Thank you again, Mister Eisenhardt."
Kurt escorted her away, and Max couldn't help but be intrigued by the two strangers he had just met.
Brother and sister…..yet she doesn't sound German at all. Hmm.
"You are extremely lucky, sister. If Mister Eisenhardt hadn't been there, you could have gone overboard." Kurt spoke softly as they made their way down to D Deck.
She sighed. "Ah know, Kurt. Ah'm sorry. Ah thought ah heard Remy callin' out, and it startled me."
"I thought that's what I heard too."
"Did you hear his accent? He sounded-"
"German? I know! Isn't that interesting?"
"Very. Ah'm glad you met someone on board from your homeland."
As they rounded the corner, Remy LeBeau came strolling up behind them.
"Is she alright?" He asked.
Anna Marie shot him a glare. "Ah'm fine, no thanks to you."
Kurt ushered her inside their cabin before turning on LeBeau with a very angry look in his eyes as he jabbed him in the chest.

"You will stay away from her, do you hear me? I know all about your escapades and how you made a fool of yourself at her expense, and tonight she almost died because of you! Stay. Away." His thick German accent came out with his heated words.
"Easy there, Darkholme. I just came to apologize for startling her-"
"She does not want your apology. Now get lost, LeBeau." Kurt slammed the cabin door in his face.
When Kurt took a deep breath and faced his sister, she had a somewhat proud look on her face as they waited for Remy's footsteps to retreat, which they did, accompanied by low French cursing.
She smiled. "It's a rare treat to see you tell someone off like that."
"You know I don't like to yell, Anna Marie. But he almost sent you overboard. It's no secret I'm not a fan of his."
"Nah, hadn't guessed that."
They both chuckled.