Unsinkable Ship, RMS Titanic

[Taphophiliac]

Camille's little eyes gleam as she smiles at the Irish man's introduction. At least he was a gentleman to introduce himself. Unlike the other man that reeked of the drink and shook his head in a rather condescending sort of way. Well, someone's parents didn't teach him a thing. She pouts for only a second before glancing back to Finnegan with an innocent smile.

Stuffing her tarot cards back into her coat, she grabs either side of her dress and curtsies like a proper little lady. "My name is Camille Fasset. Though mother calls me 'Mille," she introduces herself. Turning to Ilario, she could only catch bits and piece of his mutter which only made her frown, so she replies in a mutter herself, "...vous etes un sac de la merde." Not very appropriate for a little girl to whisper, but these two obviously didn't have a french bone in them-- or so she hopes. Ah well, what they don't know won't hurt them.

Either way, moving on away from the introductions and so forth. "So are you two heading to America? Do you have family there? Are you going to live there? Are you going to visit? Have you been to America before?" Yes, this little chatterbox just lays out her full frontal assault on these two men. But who can blame her?-- children tend to be rather curious little creatures afterall.

[roaringatlions]

Finnegan smiled down at the girl as she talked. She was a bright child and it made him smile to see her so chatty. He had hoped one day he, too, would have a child just like "Mille," as she called herself. Never had he hoped for boys, but a girl that would be a beautiful doll with outspoken thoughts and feelings, unlike most of the women back in Ireland. Unlike most the women in the rest of the world, really.

Leaning against the rail, Finnegan looked back from Ilario to Camille, as the girl rambled on and on with her questions. Was he going to turn and tell her to shut up? He seemed ill-mannered, but he didn't strike Finnegan as the one to yell at a child. However, Finnegan had only known the man for a few moments, he couldn't possibly tell what he was really like through his exterior.

"Oh, well. I am going to America to learn," Finnegan told the girl after she had finished asking her many questions. "I plan to stay for a little while, long enough to receive a degree and then I plan to head back to my Ireland. She is where I want to raise my family. I have a girl back home who I plan to take as my wife," a smile broke on his face as he thought of her.

He wasn't sure why he was telling Camille all of this, it wasn't like he knew her or that she cared, really. She was just a curious little girl who would forget his existence once he was out of sight. "I really will miss my family," he felt a lump rise and he pushed it down. It wasn't very masculine to cry.

"Why are you going to America, Mille?" He turned to Ilario and asked him the same question. "I'd sure like to know," he offered Ilario a very friendly smile, hoping to make him a tad more sociable, or at least give him a word or two.

[Spotty]

Ilario's eyebrow lifted slightly at the girl's rapid speech, his other eyebrow following suit when she muttered the profane sentiment. Admittedly, he hadn't a French bone in his body, but the vulgar intonation wasn't lost on him. Eyes closing in irritation, he turned to face the railing once more, slipping his hands into his pockets, and closing around the flask he found within the deepest one.

He had no intention of snapping at the child. He may have found her prattling to be irritating, though...he found most conversations to be that way, he wasn't cruel.

The male glanced at the other man at his bald confessions, restraining the scowl that threatened his own features. In defeat, he took the flask, taking a drink of the liquid before returning it to his pocket. Maybe with the additional warmth in his throat and stomach, he could stand this conversation.

"America is my home," he replied simply when the conversation fell to him. It seemed unlikely that he would volunteer much more information than that on his own and he felt silent, fully expecting the child to pick up her rapid assault of questions with that.

..he should have found a better place at the rail to stand... surely not everyone on this damn ship insisted on chattering aimlessly?

[roaringatlions]

Happy at Ilario's response, Finnegan nodded. "I can't wait to see America," he confessed, "even if it means leaving behind the ones I love. I'll return," he added in his thick Irish accent. From the looks on Ilario's face, Finnegan could tell that he wasn't enjoying this conversation quite as much as he was. Maybe Finnegan was just overly sociable. He wasn't sure, really; everyone in Ireland talked to each other extensively.

Finnegan fidgeted for a few moments, unsure of how to handle the situation. Should he leave the deck and go back down to his room? Should he stay and talk to the male and child longer? Would Ilario get upset if he did? He already looked as if he was having the worst time of his life. Maybe he was just homesick. Finnegan sure knew he was.

“Did you…” the red-haired male started, “did you want us to leave you alone?” He stole a glance at Ilario’s face and looked into his eyes, then glanced away in a fit of nervousness. “I should be going anyhow, I must finish acquainting myself to all the passengers in first class.” He was unsure of how he should excuse himself, feeling nervous that he might offend.

[Tabbies]

Carlisle fidgeted nervously as the man pawed himself for his watch, dredging up a pained smile every time he met the other man's eyes.

"It's about ni-- Oh. My watch is stopped," The Canadian visibly wilted. "Sorry. I guess I don't have the time."

Determined to remain polite- for the last thing he needed was an enemy on board a ship with nowhere to do- the man tipped his head forward in thanks. "I'm sure I'll need it." Straightening and taking a step back, the young man pulled his cards from his pocket and flicked them through his hand. He wasn't sure if he could dredge up the pluck to find another person to pester for the time. Instead he contented himself with flicking the cards between his fingertips, eyes turned to admire the interior around him.

How very difficult this trip was turning out to be. When would the ship leave dock? Or had it already?