Michael James Andrews's page

So, is this over before it began?

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.

Not sure if we are waiting for our last member to join up in the salon, or for the GM to pop in some additional info.

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.

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.

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.

Returning the handshake, and taking in the more average attire of the man with an accepting nod, Michael, a pleasure Rusty. I hope we are in for a good and speedy voyage.

Smiling to both, he steps back, I will leave the young miss to her discussions. I but stop to inform her Lady that all is well with the cabins, the Olympic shall be casting off within the hour, and a late luncheon shall be sserved oon thereafter.

Waving to a nearby waiter, Michael nods towards an open table a few paces away from the two. I and your table shall be ready and nearby should you find the need.

Avoiding notice is not something the young lady is overly concerned about. Michael says as he approaches the pair.

I am Mr Andrews, and you, good sir? Michael holds out his right hand to the stranger talking to his charge, his left removing a black banded grey fedora, one matching his suit. He gives the man a quick once over as he closes the last bit of distance.

Michael gives Ms Fitzsimmon a sideways wink and sly smile, knowing she will most likely rankle under his intrusion, but hoping to keep it as mild and brief as possible.

At least manage the introductions before getting pushed off to the side. This will be a long enough voyage without numerous money seeking suitors clouding the picture.

Michael sees to it that Ms Fitzsimmon's luggage is loaded aboard ship for the journey, and delivered to her cabin. He then makes sure the adjoining stateroom for himself is ready as well. His rucksack, kit, and trunk are already aboard. Rather than take the time to unpack, he instead checks his shoulder holster for his M1911, then heads off to locate his charge.

I wonder if her "documentarian" is aboard yet?

Best not keep the lady waiting. Can't afford to mess up on the first day of our journey. Off to the bar and a pint for myself.

It seems strange being on the Olympic, knowing so many soldiers had sailed "Old Reliable" back in the heyday of the war. Definately a different, more elegant lady now. How many ghosts does she hold?

Along the way Michael stops a steward, and discovers the sailing should take between 7 and 10 days, depending upon the weather.

Hey ya cousin Harvey. Yeah I can see why ol' dad doesn't talk to your pops anymore, what with the old man's position at the State Department and all. Can't have it out about the snake handling and everything now can we?

But then again, I did run off and pretend to be Canadian, just to get into the action, rushing to Great Britian's aid well before the War Department got involved. So I guess I'm kinda in the same black sheep doghouse too. Or would that be the sheeps' pen?

From the trenches to driving for the AEF to flying with the Royal Flying Corp, memories too strong to be thinking about. Best finish off this pint before milady needs me again.

Ms Fitzsimmon, shall I gather the bags or bring the car around?

I presume that Michael will have been hired either by yourself, as a companion, confidant, and Man Friday, or else by your family as your chaperon, bodyguard and protector. Either way is good for me, so the choice is yours.

As an aside, I assume we'll get along, since we have aeroplanes in common. With Michael's experience as a gunner and navigator, shall he be the Fred Noonan to your Amelia Earhart. (Granted Lindy only made his trans-atlantic flight last year, and Amelia just made hers this past June, but hey the 20's aren't over yet.)

Well, with Michael's military experience, perhaps it would make sense to have him hired on to assist one of the more aristocratic or leader-types. A bodyguard to keep someone out of trouble, to lead them through some of the more unsavory areas a rounder might wander, or to guide/right hand for a traveling scholar perhaps.

Garns Sheppard in the mix for alternate consideration. Sheet is up. Can provide additional background fluff if desired.

1d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 61d6 + 1 ⇒ (2) + 1 = 31d8 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 61d6 + 1 ⇒ (5) + 1 = 61d8 + 1 ⇒ (3) + 1 = 41d6 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 71d6 + 1 ⇒ (1) + 1 = 21d6 + 1 ⇒ (6) + 1 = 7

edit - background is up.