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@dennisjordan
Excuse me, are you lost?
[ She let out a light hearted laugh. ] Excitement? Oh, yes. My family has a horrible habit of ruining all the excitement. I hardly doubt that you would be able to disappoint me.
Very well then, that is my one goal for today: to be less of a killjoy than your family members. I would ask you to not raise your hopes too much. A bath attendant is a poor conductor of excitement.
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Must you tread like a cat?
[Oh interesting… didn’t think he’d cave so soon. Remember, shield up. He mustn’t know you’re smiling.] My business is finished here, garçon. [Dennis Jordan. Deck E. Turkish bath attendant.] What is more, I have no reason to stay. Sometimes, in desperate times, we say indiscreetly hasty things hoping it will bring us what we want. We are wrong, then. I am a hedonist, remember? I will take pain only if it was pleasure to me, and there is nothing pleasing about a dead end.
All right, then. [So much for attempting to be polite with that offer to leave. Apparently he isn't having any of it.] I, erm, should get back to work. [How am I supposed to bloody work after this?] If you would not mind closing the door on your way out--the awful thing has a habit of swinging open. [Dennis folded the towel he had never let go of and set it in a nearby cabinet, grateful again for an excuse to turn away. His fingers ached, shook; he flexed them to get the feeling back.]
Excuse me, are you lost?
Speaking as someone who was briefly in both situations, the gentlemen with large fortunes have no shortage of potential wives, and they’re all ghastly. It’s the one with no money that are scrambling after the girls with money to indenture through marriage.
[Quietly:] Buildings collapse, Dennis. They get rot and damp and creditors. If you’re lucky, the woman stays forever.
Neither of those prospects is particularly uplifting, Sir. [Dennis smiled and shook his head.] I think I'll steer clear of anything at all to do with marriage--which brings us back to our point of making sure you discontinue this notion to find me a life partner. Yes, let's take pity on the female population and remove myself from the picture.
But people don't stay forever. [No matter what they promise.] Despite what you claim, there is no ball and chain between you and the one you love. The house, on the other hand, can't bloody up and leave you. [Stop sounding bitter. This isn't you. You smile and you laugh and you love; you do not begrudge others their mistakes.]
Excuse me, are you lost?
What are some of the exciting parts of the ship, monsieur?
[Dennis laughed softly. It would seem that no matter how questions he put to her, she would always reply with one of her own.] Is it excitement we're searching for? I don't want to disappoint you by telling you that the most excitement I've seen today is the cooks chasing cats away from the kitchens. Quite a sight, the portly fellows running down the halls brandishing spoons.
Must you tread like a cat?
Oh. [Resist the urge to look wary. Show him you are resisting your own fear. Lift that shield just slightly higher, one step back. You’re a man who’s made a criminal mistake. Make him believe it or you’ll be the dead one.] I should have realised. I must beg your leave, then. With a near-definite rejection on the horizon, it would not behoove me to elaborate. You must either know my meaning or else it would be… injudicious of me to elaborate. In either way, your answer seems to be the same. I would rather preserve my skin than play verbal games.
[Turn to leave. Pause. Just so.] If you will permit the foreigner one last risk, you would be handsome on your knees, but not if I forced you there.
[Dennis swallowed hard. Something in him desperately wanted Luc to stay for awhile; another part of him knew that he wanted to collapse in relief that Luc was leaving. The encounter was going to leave him shaking--was he so obvious as that? It had taken him and Alex weeks to admit the truth, but within three minutes this Luc had done the same. Dennis had no idea if that was normal or not, if this should be enough to give rise to suspicion.
Let him leave. Call it a day. Consider yourself lucky.]
Wait! Don't go. [Merde. Didn't think that one through.] I mean--I'll go, you were here when I so rudely intruded.
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Excuse me, are you lost?
Entirely mine for two whole hours? Oh, how many wonderful things we could see and discover together! Where would you suggest our adventure to begin? [ Okay, Estelle. Be the perfect woman. Compliant, willing, and ready to follow him anywhere he takes you. Smile… See it isn’t too hard? ]
The choice is yours, ma'am. It was you who began this wandering, I am simply tagging along; I will follow where you lead, for there is nothing in particular I wish to see.
Excuse me, are you lost?
I’m afraid I could never do that. [I owe you. I couldn’t have gotten out of bed on some mornings without you. God help me, I owe a debt.] Having seen you with a distinct lack of meddlesome avuncular gentleman in your life, it is my sovereign duty to step up and procure the companion of your future life for you.
All too soon, indeed. [And then she’ll be gone with who-knows-whom, doing-who-knows-what.] It’s a load of rubbish, Jordan, home’s not about duration. Home’s about people. You’ve got a home as long as you’ve got them. And, er, you’re a mite homeless when they up and leave you without explanation, which is, er, why you should invest in the marriage business. Wives, now those are just anchored to you. They’re a house you can carry around with you like a ball and chain. A portable house! Doesn’t that sound fantastic?
I could have sworn it was gentlemen in possession of large fortunes who were in want of wives, not gentlemen with no fortune at all. [And the companion of my future life is no woman, though God help me if you should ever discover that.]
No offense meant, but I certainly hope you are wrong. [If home is truly about people, I've left mine behind.] For that would mean that some people [me] are doomed to wander the earth homeless, with no ties anywhere. Much more uplifting to consider that I can make a home for myself by simply settling down somewhere without worrying over my marital state. [Or lack thereof.]
Must you tread like a cat?
I was wrong about you? That is a strike to the ego of a smart man. But I would regret to see you unable to look me in the eye. It is such a shame when there is no eye contact, the friction is more pleasant when you see what you do to each other… You must pardon me, I did not mean friction, unless that is how you describe the process of shoes being polished. The curse of a new language is that there are so many words they teach you from the textbooks, but there is so little opportunity to understand colloquialisms.
My locker room with Racing Club is not so unpleasant as that, I did not mean to make them sound like louts and boors. Young men in the prime of life, youth and vigour bursting at the seams, sweat and the urge to push - for victory. It is a heady atmosphere to be in. The love I bear my teammates is almost a drug: bad for the soul, borderline illicit with good it feels to see their faces after a game. The triumph of a win or the dirty failure of a loss, they are assuaged if there is a good man to help you absorb the blow.
[And smile. The famous smile: composed, brave, I-have-told-you-a-secret-if-you-can-read-between-the-lines. Practised to perfection.] How much clearer would you like me to be?
[Oh God. Oh God, why?] Erm...no, I wouldn't call it "friction", exactly. [He has to know what he sounds like, he has to know what he's saying.] In fact, I'm unaware of any colloquialisms that describe the sensation of having your shoes polished. At any rate, I doubt I'd much like polishing your shoes, eye contact or no. I will fetch the First Class passengers towels and turn on taps for you all, but being forced to kneel at your feet is where I draw the line.
[Guarded, carefully:] You sound most fortunate in your selection of teammates. Is that why you're traveling? Do you lot have a game in the States?
[Feign ignorance. He already considers you ignorant, it should not be too hard to convince him of it.] Sir, other than a description of the camaraderie of Racing Club, you have still offered me nothing.
Must you tread like a cat?
I find that you have charm because you are new. You must be new to this business of indentured labour: usually the men who shine my shoes have forgotten what uprising sounds like and their eyes are firmly glued to the floor. You must be on hard times, and I admire you for doing what needs to be done. [Don’t gag. Don’t overdo it; you might not have the softest hands but that wasn’t from manual labour. You grew up spoiled and rich. Sound like it.] You have charm in abundance compared to others in your station. By God, you are a gentleman compared to my friends from the locker room. But are all you Englishmen so coy? Have I really offered nothing to you? [This is moment: this is when you know. Are my hands trembling? Best to clench those fists in an attempt to “hide” the naked emotion. God save the buggerers, they need the help. Look convincing. Look afraid but as if you’re trying not be. Make him believe it or you really will have something to be afraid of.]
I confess I am not new to labor at all: before this I was a valet, and before that, an employee at a restaurant. I have yet to shine someone's shoes, though--perhaps that will be what breaks me and keeps my eyes glued to the floor. [Dennis laughed] Your friends from the locker room must be awful indeed if you see me as a gentleman in comparison. [His cheerfulness faded slowly as he processed what Luc was saying, and was gone completely when he could bear to tear his gaze from the floor. Do not trust him; you trusted Alexandre, and he betrayed you, he made you believe that he loved you, he abandoned you. Dennis's pulse quickened, but from anger or fear he could not tell. He could not open his mouth to reply. Not when he did not know what would come out.
Fuck off was what Dennis wanted to say, but something in him made him stop, a traitorous thought calmed him: not everyone is Alexandre--deceiving, lying, manipulative. Dennis would be neither believing nor disbelieving, then. Perhaps it had been a lapse in translation on Luc's part. Yes, that was it: he just did not know what he had said.] Indeed, you have not.
Excuse me, are you lost?
A warm-bodied strapping fellow like yourself having no interest in the coat girl sounds like the beginning of a badly-told joke. What, did she have octopus legs under that skirt of hers, was that it? In which case, I must tailor any future matchmaking endeavours to accomodate you with women who don’t look like sea creatures. Duly noted, then.
The boat’s like a home on propellers. Who in their right mind would mind a little White Star service? What is that’s getting your goat then, old boy? Never took you for the seasick type.
You know me and my penchant for bad jokes. If only God had blessed me with a sense of humor along with my warm-bodied strappiness, I might have succeeded with this coat girl. [Dennis did his best to give a disapproving look.] I'd prefer if you tailored your future matchmaking endeavors so as to make them nonexistent. [It's not as though you know my type, and if your love life is anything to go by, you shouldn't be handing out advice.]
Home implies duration. This trip to the States will be over all too soon. [And I'll have to deal with whatever comes then. Come now, cheer up--the passengers love your smile, if the talk around the baths is anything to go by.] I'm fine, truly. It must be the bloody steam finally getting to my head.
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Excuse me, are you lost?
If you would not mind wandering aimlessly, I should hate to take you away from your duties about the ship.
It would be my pleasure. As for my duties--I can abandon them for the present moment. I am entirely yours for the next [When does the next shift start? Ah, right.]...oh, two hours or so.
Must you tread like a cat?
Firstly, I have only said your ignorance is of the society in my country, a fact that is mutual. I am at your mercy when navigating your customs, as well, am I not? Second of all, we have grievously misunderstood each other if you believe I see you only for what you can do for me. Charming stranger, I do not know you well enough to know what you are willing to give me in the first place – a prerequisite to wanting something of you. Is culture shock not something we can laugh off? I am comfortable in my body, it appears you are not so free. Or perhaps it is mine that you do not find gratifying. It is a crippling blow to my esteem to be rejected so swiftly, but I shall survive it. I simply hope that it was my hideous person… personality? Or is ‘persona’ the right word? - that was to blame, but not my foreignness.
[Charming stranger? And star-eclipsingly bright smile? Dennis's eyes grew cold. He had heard similar before and that had wrought nothing but misery. ...Maybe it was a French thing, to flatter strangers to get what you wanted.]
If after such an outburst - which I beg your forgiveness for, I quite forgot myself - you still consider me charming, you must have quite the tolerance for the opposite. As for what I'm willing to give you--I work for you, at least on this ship; you have only to name it, and if it is within my power to accomplish, I will. [Dennis could not keep the blush from rising--rejection? He wasn't sure if anyone was capable of rejecting Luc. Best not say that aloud.] For there to be a rejection, there must first have been an offer, and you offered nothing. I assure you, no blow to your esteem was meant, hideous is the last thing I would call y - [Shut. Up.] I apologize again, Sir.
Excuse me, are you lost?
Oh, but the truth is exactly what I care about. And since you seem so fond of it yourself, why don’t you share it with me?
I'm quite a selfish being [you understand that, don't you?], and don't wish to share.
Must you tread like a cat?
[One step back. Eyes wide. Clench your grip. How does Estelle perform this kind of asinine charade all day long?]
Of course. [First hint of frost in that voice. Luc Bastien is not used to rejection, especially when he stepped down from his pedestal to lay himself on the line. Luc Bastien is a sham, and this takes too fucking long compared to a bullet.] I should have realised. Our governments are political allies, but to you xenophobic English, men like me will simply remain the filthy foreigner. And although your lack of interest in my… existence, is that the word? - [Oh, nice touch, losing your grasp English in a heated moment. And now to turn the knife.] - is abundantly clear, I have been Luc. I am Luc.
Xenophobic? [Dennis turned to glare at whoever this was - this Luc - and had to remind himself that he was not merely another passenger, he worked here, and it would hardly be fitting to throw a towel in a valued customer's face. ...Or several towels. His hands clenched around the fabric in his hands.] You walk in here, completely starkers, I become uncomfortable, and that must mean I'm xenophobic? Or maybe - and this is just a thought - maybe you were right the first time and it was just a bit of a culture shock! I'm not - I am in no place to consider anyone a filthy foreigner, and you were the one calling me ignorant because I'm English, so whose the goddamned prejudiced one between the two of us? You don't see me as anyone worth talking to, you've made that abundantly clear - I'm worth only what I can do for you. You have no interest in my existence, and you accuse me of ignoring yours?
Excuse me, are you lost?
Tut, tut, old boy, it’s a poor sort who blames others for his own inability to bed women. What, this coat girl managed to resist your charms because you had breath that smelled like garlic or hands that were too eager? Or was it that you were too good for the likes of her?
My luck’s held out strong, Dennis; God chuckles fondly at a sinner. Let’s not talk about tempting fate. Sylvia’s already gotten to me with her edginess about being on a boat, so not you too now. The water’s no place for any of us to be, unless you mean the swimming pool, a place I’d gladly revisit.
I wasn't - that's not at all what I meant! I had no interest [Careful, there. Bit too close to the truth] in bedding her, and no, I certainly didn't consider myself too good for the likes of her. She was probably too good for the likes of me, now that you mention it.
It's not the boat that I mind. [It's everything it brings, everything I'll have to face when I get to America] In fact, I'm rather enjoying it - it's my first time, you know. Never been on the water before. 'Course, with my work in the baths, now I'm around it a bit too much for my liking, but it can't be helped.
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Excuse me, are you lost?
Well, as little as I think of rumors and those who spread them, I do find them revealing at times. Even more so that the truth itself. They have to come from somewhere, don’t they?
Rumors are but twisted versions of the truth, and they're twisted to suit the needs of whomever is spreading them, making them more revealing of the person and less so of that truth.
Which is a problem, unless it's not the truth you care about.
How may I be of service?
More’s the pity, that. Lots of things to hide means of lots of trouble on board. I am, of course, the soul of law and order, and maintaining it is my greatest pleasure. I’ll make sure this piece of paper reaches its owner, don’t worry.
Incidentally, where did you find it? It’s in terrible condition.
The Turkish Baths, oddly enough. I don't think it's anything serious--the things the First Class passengers prattle on about...well, at any rate, thanks again.
