Assemble!
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Michael watches over the lounge area, keeping a casual eye on the passersby and his charge. The job is going well so far.
Overall not a bad gig for a simple Joe, scoring a seat on this spiffy tub. Watch over a pretty Jane, be the torpedo in waiting, and scare off any piker palookas.
"Hmm"."I can't fathom how you would get in trouble, because I fail to acknowledge a silly suggestion". "But, in some strange warped way I appreciate your misplaced sense of chivalry".
Then clearing the smoke from her face with a small glove draped hand, she opens a silver cigarette case, withdraws a fresh cig, and placing it in her lips, asks in her most demure voice.
"Do you have a light"?
She acknowledges her support, but is intrigued and humored by the stranger for the moment. He's alleviating a bit of her expected boredom.
"Attention attracts trouble, and I'd rather not get either when one follows the other."
Rusty reaches into his jacket to take out a faded red matchbook. He opens it and takes out a single match, striking it on the matchbook's exterior to light it and then holds it up to the cigarette.
"May I have your name?" he asks, flicking the match away when the cigarette is lit.
"Well you may have my name I guess". "But you'd feel silly if your friends started calling you Isabelle...so why don't you let me keep that one, and give me one I can call you".
Rusty laughs. "I don't know, Isabelle is quite a lovely name. I suppose it suits you more than it suits me, however, so you can call me Rusty."
"Rusty huh"? "That gives me an idea". "Bartender two". , then remembering Michael, "No make that three Rusty Nails". "Charge them to room... She then turns and raises an eyebrow at Michael.
Stateroom 112 barkeep. Same as for the table, if you please. Michael offers a slight smile and wink, then returns to lightly skimming the pages of the NY Daily News, probably the last bit of current news they get before the arrive on the other side of the pond.
"Thank you." Rusty watches the bartender mix the drinks with interest. "I've never had one of those before."
Michael sits back, surveying the other passengers that mull through the area, while keeping a discrete, yet protective eye on Ms. Fitzsimmon and her latest interest. She does seem to have a way with people, or at least men it seems. Still, I think her father may be a bit overreacting of any "danger" in her behavior. But then, I am somewhat on the out of my father's social circle too.
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Sorry I am late Ms. Fitzsimmon. I wanted to make sure I got some shots of the Statue of Liberty before we departed back home across the pond. The weather could be less cloudy, but overall I am pleased with the shots. And of course you have made a new friend, while I was away David says with a slight chuckle as he bursts in on the scene.
I always find it amazing how she makes friends so easy, maybe I might one day be able to hold people's attention like that
And who might you be, good sir?, David asks looking at her company.
Rusty turns his head, inspecting the newcomer before acknowledging him with a nod. "I'm Rusty, nice to meet you. And who are you? A friend of Isabelle?" He sips his drink.
"I can't quite place the accents, but I'm guessing you are all from England?" Rusty says, his tone one of friendly curiosity.
He looked up at Rusty, watching as the two men subconciously sized one another up, standing in Isabelle's orbit, then answered the question, more to remind both men of his presence, and his purpose.
Myself, I hail from the States, Cumberland Maryland to be on spot. Family made the dough with the railroad, before the old man found his way to politics, where the real dough is made.
Folding away the paper, its words already read and mostly forgotten, he continued. Me, I was a flyboy during the Great One, but a palooka for staying out of government work. Wasn't gonna glad hand, so I tramped around awhile. Made my way across the pond and round abouts, then fell into this gig. Protecting Ms Fitsimmons interests as it were, and keeping her safe amongst the hoi poloi.
More likely keeping others outta her interests, but it beats living under my old man's darb.
Isabelle titters at the suggestion she might be from England. "Please". "London is terribly boring". "They have these old fashioned, stuffed shirt ideas of a woman's place in society". "I'm afraid my Auntie's two favorite times are when I arrive, and when I depart".
She then bends down, unlaces her boots, removes them, and puts her now bare feet upon the table, (making sure nothing inappropriate is displayed).
"Everyone loosen up and relax". "We can at least make the voyage fun".... Bartender" ! "Another round please, and let your pouring hand linger a bit longer".
"And David". "Please put that G0d darn camera down for a moment". "You don't have to document everything". "Relax for a bit won't you".
"Ahh, I see." Rusty finished the rest his drink in one swallow and leaves it on the counter for the bartender to take as he pours another round. He doesn't react when Isabelle puts her feet up, merely glancing before turning his attention back to the bartender, observing him mix. "I haven't been to England before so I wouldn't know. Apologies for the confusion. I suppose I should introduce my profession since you've gladly offered yours." He pauses, deciding what to say. "I am a mortician though one out of work and have since made most my living doing all sorts of unskilled jobs. I've traveled the States and seen quite a lot of it but I originally hail from Los Angeles in California. The city was quite violent when I was there, embroiled in conflict. Morticians were never out of work then. However, one of those conflicts made its way to my home." He shrugs. "I left as soon as I recovered."
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I was born in the states, Boston to be precise. My folks, both actors, traveled to England to do a show and settled there. I was about 9 or so when they settled down. I got into trouble, wasn't to happy bout the move. They wish me to follow in their genes as an actor and I refused. I was tossed outta the family, so I taught myself my passion of photography, and the rest is history. Yes Miss Fitzsimmon, I shall take a break David replies while he drinks his whiskey sour.
"Quite admirable, to be self-taught and on your own." Rusty sips his new drink, tilting his head as he examines the flavor.
So, is this over before it began?