Take A Letter...

[clan_destine]

Sometimes, life just reaches out and slaps you. It's bad enough when it's a surprise. But at least if it's a surprise, you can file the event under "Never Saw It Coming". You can claim a degree of ignorance, or even complete innocence.

If, on the other hand, that divine fist gave you plenty of notice, up to, and including, warning bells, road signs, and the complete first, second, third, and final notices (complete with striped red envelopes), then you're the one that has to shoulder some, if not most or all, of the blame.

Jack Riley had to admit that he had seen at least some of those signs. His marriage of late had been.. well, boring. His wife hadn't been a horror or a harpy, but she had been growing distant. Each had their careers, each had scheduled their vacations to accomodate the other's convention visits, and each had quietly been pleased at the childless relationship. He hadn't married Tara with the intention of having a trophy wife, but there had been times when that was what she had ended up being, even as he'd been relegated to being her corporate connection for her own work. There had been love, but the emotional aspect had been dulled in favor of the numerous concerns about ensuring their retirement time would be financially secure. His work had paid off, and he'd been promoted into an effective window dressing position, one where he was now being payed more to work ten weeks a year than he'd been paid at the top of his two weeks vacation maximum position, and really only showing up for shows or shareholder meetings. Of course, as that happened, Tara was suddenly not simply distant, but virtually non-existent.

He'd seen the signs, and started making efforts to correct it, but realized at a horrific moment that he was acting far too late. The big blow up had been at a fund raiser for her latest cause, when he'd caught her as the sole woman in a six person group grope. His attempt at a civil questioning of her had resulted in a case of assault and battery, and when the police had started making noises about arrest, she'd elected to stand with the man that had tried to break his nose. The salt in the wound had been her not only bailing the man out, but escorting him to their home and bedroom afterwards.

A minor benefit of his work was a top notch legal department, and the divorce was more of a surgical exercise than emotional firefight. While Jack appreciated the efficiency, his counselor had pointed out that he needed to find a way to mourn the end of the relationship, and urged that he "take some time off". With virtually nothing to hide behind at his desk, he'd agreed, and handed his credit card to a travel agent. He didn't even bother returning home to pack. A quick phone call to the house keeper had arranged for maintenance of the now soiled residence, and a quick shopping trip had netted him a couple of days worth of clothing, a single tuxedo, luggage and toiletries, and he was off.

He barely remembered the flight out, the brief hotel visit, or the cab ride out to the pier. A quick crossing of the gangway, and he was aboard the Delphine Princess, ready for a relaxing trip to the exotic Mediterranean.


OOC - This is a private thread for Maid of Marvels and myself. Please enjoy, and feel free to PM either of us with comments and thoughts. Thanks! CD

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Jocelyn Whittaker unpacked her luggage as diligently as she had selected the contents, barely able to remember a time when she had not been so methodical and organized. Her sister, Connie, called her 'anal', she, however, preferred to refer to herself as efficiently... streamlined.

The years hadn't been unkind to her, though there was a slight sag now in her breasts and she was slightly fuller in the waist. Her hair, still uncolored, hadn't lost its sheen and surprisingly enough neither had her eyes lost their sparkle. In Carl's eyes, Jocelyn had simply "ripened" rather than aged. God, how she missed him!

Her friends and family had been like bricks throughout Carl's illness and after his death a year ago. What they didn't understand (or maybe they did), was that she just didn't know what to do with herself anymore. She'd never been a mother, Carl wasn't able. She hadn't worked for most of her married life, either. Well, not at a proper job.

Jocelyn had taken care of her husband by herself twenty-four-seven for most of that time, her only respite when he was in for peritoneal dialysis twice a week. And even then, she used that time to shop and clean and do other things outside the house that she couldn't manage when he was home.

Such as it was, she had adhered to what some called a rigid schedule which she termed systematic methodology - and, more commonly - keeping her sanity. Without an orderly, logical arrangement of time, Jocelyn would have crumbled long ago. Now, though, with Carl gone, she realized, it was time to start taking care of Jocelyn.

That decision didn't come easily. For months after her husband's death, she found herself still waking at six to shower and dress while the automatic timer (set up the night before) on the coffeemaker initiated its brewing. By then Carl would have been awake and the day would begin in earnest. Jocelyn found herself still padding back to the converted living room cum bedroom to tidy Carl up - the term they had used to lessen the humiliation he felt at having to wear diapers - only to stand in the middle of the room staring at the space his hospital bed used to occupy... and she would remember.

After much protesting, she finally allowed her sister and brother-in-law to return her own bed to the master bedroom and the living room furniture to be reclaimed from storage. It helped a little, but not enough. Jocelyn meandered through her day like a troglodyte, continuing to adhere to her
solitary pseudo-schedule hour after hour, day after day.

It had been the will clearing probate that finally yanked her back into the real world again and given Jocelyn the determination to start taking care of herself. It enabled her to put the house on the market (she didn't need that much room) and begin to plan for a cruise - something she and Carl had always wanted to do but had not been able to due to his illness.

After weeks of searching online, reading brochures and speaking to various travel agents, Jocelyn had finally decided on the Delphine Princess. With no schedule to cling to, she had decided that the Mediterranean would be her jumping-off point. From there - who knew?

 

[clan_destine]

Jack

The check in process was fairly perfunctory, essentially the same process used in hotels and tour businesses around the world. For all intents and purposes the liner was a floating hotel, so it was carefully organized and streamlined, and Jack's actual communication with a human being was limited to an attendent with a carefully practiced perky smile, and the porter that asked if he wanted assistance with his two bags. He signed where he needed to, showed identification, and accepted a keycard, all with the same professional distance that he had used in his business dealings.

His cabin was a fairly pleasant surprise. He was painfully familiar with hotels of various quality levels, and had quickly established an impression of what the room would be, simply based upon the front desk, and the service there. In this case, his expectations were shunted aside, since he'd somehow forgotten that space on a luxury liner (despite the word luxury) was at a premium. The cabin was best described as comfortable, but the entirety of his allotted space was smaller than his corner office back on land. This wasn't to say that it was too small, but he would have expected a somewhat larger suite.

It wasn't until he started reading the numerous notes and pamphlets about the cabin regarding the voyage to come that he saw a line that reminded him completely of his new status. On the panel on the back of the hall door was the usual emergency information, escape routes, drill instructions, and a single line following the Your Cabin Is note and cabin number.

Class II Luxury Cabin, Single Occupancy

That single line reminded him that he had more room than he needed. The bed? He needed access to one side. The desk? Just space to pull the chair out. The dresser and closet? Space to open them, and remove what he needed. The entertainment center? It sat in the corner, and could be viewed from any spot in the main cabin. The bathroom was a simple affair, again a small arrangement that could be crossed end to end with four steps, at most. His small collection of toiletries took up a small section of the simple sink.

With the realization that he didn't have to worry about keeping space clear for Tara and her things, he quietly smiled, and pulled the cabin curtains open, flooding the room with light. For a long moment, he enjoyed the simple sunlight. No longer was it a status or bragging point. It was a cleansing light, reminding him that he was starting a new day in his life.

A sudden blast of the ship's horns alerted him that departure was imminent, and he tossed a mental coin, debating whether to sit and read the various schedules, info sheets, pamphlets about shipboard activities, brochures about luxuries and facilities to be found aboard, notices about available services, and detailed explanations about what to do during drills, including how to put on a life vest. Or, he could go out onto the deck, and watch the ship pull out of the berth, and begin it's voyage out to sea.

His mental image flashed tails, and he left the cabin, habitually checking his pocket three times for the keycard, as well double checking the map for the quickest route out into the sunlight.

The deck was a celebratory chaos. Families were the primary gatherers, mostly all to wave to others that had brought them here, but there were also the expected young couples, older couples, and assorted personnel in uniforms. All were throwing things over the railing, confetti and streamers competing with coins in the sudden wall of colored goodies wafting into the air, and down to the dock and the water. Several people were already making use of their cameras, or talking on their cells to those people on the dock that were waving back to them while they talked. Jack elected to move up to an empty spot along the rail, and simply watched.

"You're breaking tradition." An older couple was next to him, tossing the last bits of confetti from a little sachet. The lady smiled in one of those engaging church lady smiles, and cast the small bag onto the wind. "If you're going to be out here, you need to cast something to the wind."

Jack nodded politely, realizing that his packet of various colored paper bits was still sitting back in his cabin. The thought of returning for it wasn't something that excited him, so he considered for a moment, then reached into his pocket, slipping a finger into the tiny change pocket at the bottom. The single item within it was easily recovered, and he made a single, smooth arcing movement, sending it into the air with a calm toss.

He only followed it for a moment as it fell, the sunlight glinting off it in brief bursts as it tumbled. He allowed himself to imagine the splash as his wedding ring hit the water.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

She almost didn't go on deck, having said as many goodbyes as she could bear. There was no such thing as "being late" for departure, she reasoned. Well, unless one waited until there was no land at all in sight. And even then... Was there some form of etiquette she wondered, never having been much for such things. And who would notice her absence at any rate? The Delphine Princess wasn't exactly moving under her own power, was she? Tugs pulled the liners from the harbor until... Until when? Now that interested her. How far out would they be before the tugboats went on their way. And was there some sort of ceremony involved? A leave taking of sorts?

Jocelyn looked around her stateroom. She'd unpacked everything that she had packed and those "everythings" were neatly in their places. Their places. She smiled and sighed. Well, for as long as she'd be aboard at any rate. Might as well go up on deck, she decided. One couldn't start a new life stashed away down here - even if she'd lack for nothing by doing so.

Giving her dark, shoulder length hair a quick brush, she examined herself in the mirror and, with her keycard safely ensconced in a zipped inner pocket of her shoulder bag, stepped out into the hall. "Here goes nothing, Jocelyn," she said to herself as she headed upward, her stomach doing a lazy flip-flop that was more nerves than the movement of the ship.

People were cheering and calling out to family and friends who were, in turn, waving from the dock, but this isn't what Jocelyn wanted to see. Making a quick turn, she made her way to the other side of the ship. The side where the tugboats were. The side that was pointing in the direction of her new life.

Once there, Jocelyn Whittaker drew in her breath, gripped the rail and, raising her arm, stared at the horizon and called out: "Hello! I'm on my way! Hello!"

 

[clan_destine]

Jack

He'd turned around after performing the minor ceremony. Maybe it actually held no true significance to the world at large, and Tara would most likely have simply laughed briefly at it, but it had felt right. He didn't even afford himself a moment to glance down at his ring finger, knowing that there were now only two physical reminders to him that the ring had been there for a length of time. The band of white would fade away soon enough, especially if he elected to spend time outside. The ridge of callous would take longer, but it would be eventually reabsorbed.

Nature knew how to heal itself from most bad things.

Still, the party atmosphere was hard to ignore. Even in his gloomiest moments he could feel the energy that the crowd was putting out, and he knew that ignoring it wasn't the most brilliant decision. Besides, he needed to stretch his legs and learn the boat's layout.

"Ship." He broke his silence long enough to briefly rebuke himself for using the wrong word to describe the vessel he stood on, even if the erroneous word had been kept in his mind. He couldn't remember the exact requirements to define something as a ship, a boat, a skiff, or a dinghy, but he knew that he was on something far too large to qualify as anything other than the largest term. "It's a ship, dummy."

As the ship started to suggest movement (Impellers? Propellers? Tug boats? Was it important for him to know, or should he simply sit back and enjoy the ride?), he opened his senses to take in the entire experience. The action was experienced more than felt, a hint of motion that he noted more in his stomach than in seeing the movement. His vision was briefly dazzled from his looking towards an end of the ship. He didn't know off hand if it was the front or the back (Fore? Aft? Bow? Stern? For one of the few times in his life he felt a sense of shame at having steered clear of the sea.), but the sun bounced off of the water in a brilliant blaze of light, blinding him not only with the sheer power, but also with the latent phospene after effects. The scent of the salt water hit his nostrils at the same time as the tang hit his tastebuds, hinting at the mysticism of the sea, and stirring some primitive desire within him to see what it would be like to have no hint of land anywhere within his line of sight. But the odd effect that hit him was the sudden throb of a drum, a deep reverberation from an electric bass, and a ululating cry of a calypso singer offering up the call to a celebration. Blinking, Jack crossed the deck with robotic foot falls, letting his ears lead him about.

It wasn't the best plan, especially since hearing didn't tell him where doors or stairs were, but it did get him to a shadowed place where he could let the flaring in his eyes die down. Then he was able to find his way to one of the upper decks, where the band was playing a cover of a ten year old pop song, although it now had something of an island sound to it. The pool was starting to fill with fun seekers. (Jack wasn't sure if there was something ironic about swimming aboard a ship, that was heading out to sea, but he opted not to worry about it for too long.) The various wait staff for this area were busy wandering around passing out drinks and small appetizers. And the bar was open, and just starting to swing into full speed, the three bartenders working at a business that was part beverage service, and part show, putting brilliantly colored drinks into strangely shaped glasses with toppings of fruit and colored umbrellas.

Jack briefly considered bypassing the environment and stick to something familiar, then shook his head. Part of the purpose of this trip was to put his life behind, and to do something different, and out of character.

Trusting to fate, he simply pointed to something that someone else was starting to take a sip from, and soon had something similar in his hand. His first taste told him that it had a bit too much sugar for his normal tastes, but the second reminded him that there was quite a bit of alcohol hidden in there as well. Settling back in a chair, he took a long moment to take in the entirety of the day.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Moving away from the rail at last, Jocelyn walked along the deck in the opposite direction from that which she had arrived. She hadn't bothered to bring the ship's floor plan that she was certain other passengers were clutching to their breasts as if it was some sort of lifeline, preferring to make her way within the Delphine Princess' ambit on her own. Besides, if she got lost, there would surely be someone about to redirect her and there were fire/emergency drill schematics posted almost everywhere she looked.

Tempted by the lounges circling the apron of the pool, she almost settled into one to read when she heard the sound of music drifting in her direction. It was rather Caribbean sounding, but the beat seemed to set a rhythmic pulse flowing through her. This was something she expected to hear on a pristine, palm tree littered beach as she sat sipping a drink served in a pineapple with dozens of paper umbrellas and skewered fruit jutting from its confines. Jocelyn smiled to herself and followed the music.

The salon was decorated with a tropical theme which Jocelyn found slightly amusing considering they were headed for the Mediterranean, but the atmosphere was exhiliarating and the passengers who were celebrating here seemed to be in inordinately good humor. She looked around and decided that, rather than a table, she would sit at the bar.

"Good afternoon," the bartender - one of several - greeted her with a grin as he wiped the counter and placed a napkin with the ship's logo in front of her. "What can I get you?"

Jocelyn looked around, unsure. "Perhaps umm... " She pointed at a woman who was holding a tall, blue drink. "One of those?" She turned around and leaned on her elbows. "What's in it?" she asked. "I'm not much of a drinker." Too much information, Jocelyn thought as the words slipped out. Then again, bartenders probably heard it all and this one seemed to be taking her burbling in stride.

"It's called a Blue Hawaii and it's made with blue Curacao, light rum, pineapple juice and cream of coconut," he informed her, adding that his name was Mike while pointing to his name tag. "I'll keep it on the light side and freeze it up for you," he added with a wink. "You'll be fine... "

Jocelyn smiled weakly and nodded. The pause was an obvious one and she obliged. "Jocelyn," she said, letting her bag slide to the floor between herself and the bar before spinning her stool around to watch some of the couples who were dancing. "Jocelyn Whittaker."

True to his word, Mike had made her drink over crushed ice, so it was more like a frappé. On the other hand, he had given her two umbrellas - as if to make up for the thinning down of the liquor. She grinned and sipped, nodding. "It's good. Thanks."

Mike slapped his hand down lightly on the surface of the bar and nodded. "Got some other... " he gestured with his head toward an elderly couple who were calling to him and a gentleman who looked near her age who had eased himself between them and herself. She smiled and went back to what she did best: watching.

 

[clan_destine]

Jack let the alcohol work on his system for a few minutes, feeling the flush slowly circulate. The sugary concoction tempered the raw burn, although properly prepared alcohol (that is, the fairly expensive types) tended not to irritate the throat on the way down. Jack hadn't watched the mixing procedure, but he doubted that the really costly liquor would be offered in this manner, up on the open deck, this early into the cruise.

Still, by the time he'd finished the contents of the glass, he was feeling a bit loosened up. He allowed himself a long moment to watch the happenings in the pool, fighting to keep from openly laughing at the antics and interplay of the younger people in the pool. The deck actually had three pools, each aimed at a certain crowd. There was a wading pool, nominally for children, but more commonly used by the young "ladies" that wanted to show off their forms and expensive bathing suits without the actual risk of getting themselves wet. The second pool was the general pool, essentially a hotel pool with gradiated depths and a couple of small boards and a slide. allowing for lap swimming or general horseplay, and this one was currently being used by a couple of families. The third pool was one of those "fantasy" pools, it's primary allure coming from an adjustable base and several powerful pumps that created the illusion of currents or waves, depending upon the setting. For the most part, it was filled with young men vying for the attentions of the dissaffected waifs in the wading pool.

"Lunacy" he muttered. He couldn't remember when he had been eager to act like that, let alone to do it in order to attract a woman's attention. He was certain he had, but he couldn't decide if he'd been old enough to be ordering alcohol at the time. And had he been even remotely aware of the fact that the women he had been trying to impress were more interested in making sure they were noticed than if they noticed him.

The band tried a new song, a bouncy version of a song he didn't recognize, although the younger members of the crowd seemed to respond to it. While he considered ignoring the rest of the song, he did make a mental acknowledgement of the fact that the band didn't try to sing much of the song, electing to instead attempt a rough harmonization of the chorus.

Spinning his chair around, Jack pushed the empty glass across the bar, and let his off hand dip into the bowl of bar mix. He wasn't nasty enough to pick out only the bits he liked, but accepted whatever his fingers grabbed hold of. The salty and sweet mixture cleared his mouth of the cloying drink taste, and the density of the nuts, pretzels, and sweets would give his stomach something to do.

"Gin and tonic." His order was a bit of a balance for him. He didn't really like the drink, but he didn't feel up to another rum punch special, and he could sip the drink for a bit, letting it cool him in the sun rather than drink it as quickly as possible.

The odd part of his mind that dredged up weird trivia cycled up the rough history of the gin and tonic, reminding him that it was actually the end product of giving British soldiers their anti-malerial treatments, and after so much time of imbibing the drink, the returning soldiers simply made it a standard at the bars.

The drink arrived, nicely presented in a chilled glass that was already frosting over as it slid across the bar on the cocktail napkin. Jack gave the swizzle stick a cursory stir, then took a quick sip. The feeling of a new freedom swelled up within him again, and he gave the seat a short spin, bringing his line of sight around to people sitting closest to him at the bar. He managed to catch their eyes, and he lifted his glass in a broad salute.

"Here's to new beginnings, folks."

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Jocelyn raised her drink and nodded in the man's direction, murmuring shyly. "New beginnings." It seemed that she was not the only one embarking on a journey like her own. Although she would never dream of asking anyone else what they were running to - or from, the mere thought that she was actually wondering brought a blush to her cheeks. She lowered her eyes, pulled the paper off the end of the straw Mike had stuck into her drink and took a sip; glad to have something else to distract her attention from the man whose eyes had met hers when she returned the toast.

The drink was sweet, fruity and reminiscent of a Slurpee, she thought as she quickly set it down on the bar and raised her fingers to her forehead to ease the instant ice-cream sinus headache. One would think at her age that she'd have learned not to drink ice-cold things so fast. One would think. Still in all, the drink wasn't half bad. Blue Hawaii, Jocelyn remembered wondering if there was something available that was more Mediterranean sounding on the menu.

Speaking of menus... Jocelyn took another sip and tried to remember what she had seen in the brochures about meals. She wasn't really hungry but she thought that maybe after a good swim... Her stomach lurched nervously.

In all her life she had never eaten "alone". Well, not alone in public. Maybe she could have something brought to her cabin? Jocelyn rolled her eyes in disgust and snorted out loud at her childishness. Despite the fact that she hadn't decided on the cruise to meet anyone, it was just damned stupid to think that she could just hide away in her rooms to avoid doing new things. "New beginnings," she reminded herself under her breath before taking another sip of her drink.

 

[clan_destine]

Reaction to his toast brought moderate reactions from the assembled drinkers. There were some courteous responses, attendees making an effort at joining the collective semi-conscious. There were nods and lifted glasses in his general direction, a couple of mouthed acknowledgements of some sort, and a single person actually voicing a response. Beyond that, the largest sign of activity around the bar was the brief ruckus of a pair of the older teenagers from the pool trying to wheedle a couple of beers from the bartenders.

Jack returned his eyes to the single person who had responded. She was busying herself with some sort of facial caress, not a demure flirtation or a shy hiding of her face, but a careful cranial massage. Something in the way her lips were pursed suggested a degree of embarrassment. Jack hid his grin behind his glass, taking another sip of his drink.

He did find himself surprised to be allowing his eyes to slide along the length of her form. He stopped himself quickly, not out of embarrassment, but out of shock at himself. Despite the issues they had faced, Tara had been the only woman he'd allowed himself to seriously ogle during their courtship and marriage. Sure, he'd flirted and charmed the ladies at the various parties and functions, but there had been a very firm line before him in these expeditions. There had been no emotion or impulse behind those, and the involvement stayed on the floor of whatever the gathering was, never to be followed any further. He could dimly remember hearing that women were safe in his presence, their only fears coming from his requests for donations or volunteer services at whatever the cause was at that point. But now, with Tara little but an ugly chapter in the book of his life, his mind was calling up old impulses, and bringing back the Jack of the pre-marriage days. And this woman had caught his attention.

Actually, she had caught his attention twice now - first by responding to him, and now by simply standing out slightly from the rest of the group. She struck him as.. well, sensible, for lack of a better word, yet still showing some innocence. She wasn't wearing the most fashionable clothing, or coiffed in the latest style. Her make-up was minimal, and completely lacked the evidence of artificial tanning that had been Tara's claim to fame, not to mention the minor "maintenance" procedures that his wife had considered essential.

Was this interest a reaction to a woman that seemed completely honest about herself? His unconscious attempt to find someone perfect to drive his fears and concerns deep into the dark recesses of his memory? He had to argue that one, reminding himself that even if he was feeling melancholy, he wasn't shallow enough to simply start lusting after the first woman that attracted his attention. More likely the alcohol, even if he'd only had a couple drinks so far. He'd been drowning his blues in the bottle since the night of evil, and his mind was possibly just following it's expected path.

Better to slow the alcohol as much as possible. Not only shift to something else, but give himself a bit more serious ballast. Peanuts and cashews were nice, but they were also salted to a level designed to make someone simply drink more.

He tried to remember the brief perusing of options and schedules of ship events that he'd allowed himself, but gave up quickly. Taking another short sip through the stirrer, he caught the bartender's eye as he finished dealing with the attempted underage drinkers.

"What's the meal service like right now?" It was a bit early for a full meal, but he was on a cruise ship, and there was an expected level of pampering.

"The room service kitchen is open, sir." The bartender reached for a laminated menu, but stopped and nodded in the direction of the pools. "But since it's between meals, you'll get charged for anything ordered. However, there is a cold buffet set up by the dance hall. Sandwiches, fruit, quick carry items, that sort of thing. It's simple, but it's free, and it's not going to require you to flash a card or get dressed up, sir."

Jack nodded in thanks, weighing the options. He might not want to cross past the pools, but he wasn't quite ready to return to his cabin, and he didn't really want to wait for the proper dining times.

"Well, a ham and swiss would probably taste pretty good." He spoke without thinking, more attempting to remind himself that he needed to take some action.

 

[Maid of Marvels]

"On rye with spicy mustard. Hold the tomato." The words were out of Jocelyn's mouth before she realized. Blushing as much for having been caught eavesdropping on the gentleman's conversation with Mike as for having blurted out her own preference, she sighed deeply and shrugged her shoulders, apologizing sheepishly. "Sorry. It was kind of hard to avoid hearing you. Besides," she added. "it saved me asking those same questions myself." She extended her hand. "Jocelyn," she said. "Jocelyn Whittaker."

At first she thought he wasn't going to accept her apology, the explanation for her unintended rudeness or her hand; there had been a wariness, a narrowing of his eyes as she had held it out. Jocelyn was just about to pull it back when he held out his own and grasped her hand firmly. "I'm... Jack," he responded awkwardly, pointedly leaving his surname unstated.

Jocelyn smiled, feeling a bit abashed. There must be rules to this meeting new people on board a ship that she wasn't aware of. How silly was it of her to have given her last name? She shrugged again, feeling the color rising to her face, though she wasn't quite sure why. "Sorry," she repeated, feeling even more foolish than before and more than a little annoyed with herself at behaving in such a juvenile manner.

"No worries."

She nodded. Easy for him to say. Jocelyn's eyes scanned his eyes and then his hands. It was a weird quirk of hers - eyes and hands. The eyes, she understood - mirrors of the soul and all that - but hands? She almost giggled out loud which, in her mind, would have cemented his opinion that she was some sort of immature weirdo - even at her age. She used the act of stirring her nearly untouched drink to gather her thoughts and was more than surprised when she heard him speak again.

"Excuse me?" she asked, certain that now he'd think she was hard of hearing as well.

 

[clan_destine]

The question had hung in the air for a long moment, one of those snatches of infinity where everything else in the universe seemed to pause. Jack had the brief impression that if he were to focus his attentions upon something normal and highly transient in the background - say, a drink being poured, a bird in flight, or perhaps a child leaping into the pool - he'd find that time had stopped or slowed around him, leaving the world appearing to move in bullet time. His belief was shattered by the realization that a bar shaker was in motion, gulls were swooping in the ship's wake, and the rowdy crowd at the pool was still going strong, their energy feeding off the music.

Then, the lady shook off her reverie, and broke away from her cycling of the contents of her drink. A look of apologetic befuddlement crossed her face, then she asked about the question. A simple two words, but capable of conveying so many thoughts and concerns. Simple changes in pitch and tone could easily express concern, disgust, even a need for information, distance, or assistance. In this case, the intonation suggested surprise.

Jack smiled in response, recognizing the awkwardness of the situation. Vacation environment, low level familiarity, new rules of society, all leading to a degree of confusion. He himself was rather unsure of how to handle himself. He was surprised at his own interest in her. Was it the alcohol, the invasive party atmosphere, or his own subconscious striving to remind him that he was still human? Not that he was embarrassed or angry at himself. It felt good to be back considering the attentions of the opposite sex. Besides, what was the worst that could really happen? He'd get told to go to Hell? He'd been there. If he made a fool of himself, or angered her to the point of calling for security, then he'd have the entirety of the ship to keep between them for the remainder of the cruise. So, pack up the old kit bag, gird the loins, roll the dice, watch the boy lay down the rubber road to freedom, and all that.

"I asked if you would be interested in checking out what they had with me." Jack spread his hands in a gesture somewhere between apology and surrender. "Jocelyn, you said?" He fell back on his experiences with potential customers and contributors. Full names created distance, prefixes and surnames meant pure professionalism, but first names meant, well, intimacy. Well, maybe not intimacy, but familiarity, at least.

"Let me start over, Jocelyn." He held out his hand. "I'm Jack, and I'd like to ask you to brave the trials of the sea with me. The siren's call of the band, the torrents of slipping past the pools, and the temptations of the cold buffet. Would you consider taking this journey with me?"

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Jocelyn took Jack's hand and slid off the bar stool, effectively creating a moment when neither of them seemed to know what to do next; hand-holding with strangers was outside both their comfort ranges. "My bag!" she blurted finally. Relieved to have a legitimate excuse to be free of such intimate proximity, she detached herself and leaned down to get it.

"After you," Jack said when she stood, gesturing for her to lead the way with an exaggerated flourish of his arm.

Awkward bits forgotten, Jocelyn wove her way through dancing shipmates, pausing only when she reached the door; and only then to see if Jack had actually followed her or beaten a quick (and safe) retreat. He hadn't. They smiled at each other and, looking around, she pointed in the direction of the buffet table.

Once there, she picked up two plates and handed one to him, a genuine smile of delight spreading across her face as she looked further down the table. "Oh, my!" she exclaimed to Jack under her breath. "If this is snack time, what do you think a proper meal will be like?"

Jocelyn's original intent was to have that ham sandwich that had initiated their lunching together, but she opted instead for a lovely fruit salad that had pieces of mango and berries and various melons in it. That and some cheese plus a roll would surely tide her over until whatever was next. Lunch? Or was it dinner?

As they seated themselves at an umbrella covered table, Jocelyn found herself glancing down to check the time and laughed pointing to her bare wrist. "Habit. My sister," she said, by way of explanation, "made me leave my watch with her."

Jack grinned and glanced at his watch. "It's... "

"No," she said. "Don't tell me. That's precisely one of the things I'm here for. No times. No schedules. No... " She unfolded her napkin and busied herself with placing it on your lap."

"Something to drink?"

Jocelyn looked up at the waiter and smiled. "I think I'll have an iced tea," she replied, remaining silent until Jack had ordered and they were alone again.

"I'm really not much of a drinker," she informed him with a shrug. "That last one... " She left the sentence hanging. "Besides, I've never been on a cruise before and I don't want to spend it tropical drinked out of my mind."

 

[clan_destine]

Jack

Jack found it a delight to play the gentleman again, especially since he wasn't having to worry about ulterior motives. He wasn't Jack the lovestruck youth, or Jack the potential husband. Nor was he trying to close a financial deal or cozy money out of patrons. He was an unknown here, for all intents and purposes without history or reputation.

He could simply be.. Jack.

The cold buffet was a sumptuous affair. Jocelyn's comment was quite accurate, as the array fully covered three tables, was watched by two white uniformed attendants, offered not only quick carry items like wrapped sandwiches, fruit, and bottled beverages, but also assorted salads, desserts, breads, chips, crackers, and sandwich fillings, all overseen by a carefully sculpted ice swan. Jack had a favorite lunch spot back near his office, more bar than restaurant, but it's owner offered a "free" lunch (again, basic sandwich makings and snacks, paid for by the diners' donations.), meant to serve as ballast against the ravages of martini lunches. While a fixture of his office crew, that offering paled in comparison to this.

Thinking of ballast reminded him that he already had two double strength drinks under his belt, and he needed to be slowing the alcohol in his system. He quickly set to selecting meats and cheeses - ham and beef (actual slices from the joint, not packaged cold cuts), baby swiss and provolone, as well as some decent leaf lettuce and red onion rings. A couple dollops of a spicy smelling mustard from an actual silver server, and the momentary concerns over choosing the proper bread for this. He ended up selecting an onion roll and a pair of slices of marble rye. He added a nectarine to the plate, then followed Jocelyn to the table.

Her comment about her compulsive need for a timepiece, and her careful work with her napkin suggested something of a story in her history. He'd seen something similar before, even been something like it before. Beholden to an outside force, a greater need or power. Not enslaved or forced, but acting out of a need to satisfy some inner demon. Some common object served as the link to one's sense of greater good. Watch, cell phone, brief case, personal data unit, whatever the item, it soothed and comforted them, as well as controlled them at some level.

Or maybe he was just readig something into it that he didn't need to. He was, after all, getting away from his old life.

The waiter broke his reverie, responding neatly to their having chosen a table. Jack echoed her order, and busied himself briefly with scoring the fruit with the edge of his knife.

"I agree." Jack answered her comment with a smile. "Social drinking is one thing, where I can make a show of a sip or two, then pass the glas off when I need to. Simple stuff, champagne or something served in a tumbler. But this stuff, sweet, colored, designed to hook you and knock you out.. well, let's leave it at I won't be going back to it."

He peeled the nectarine and sectioned it, alternating placing a wedge in his mouth and a wedge on the plate, chewing quickly, allowing the tartness to wash away the tastes in his mouth from the drinks. He then set to building the sandwiches, using the action to allow him to speak for a moment.

"So, you're stepping away from schedules. Anything you'd care to talk about? Or perhaps you have some questions of me?" He finished the last question even as he neatly sliced the nearer sandwich in half diagonally.