and i'm amazed by you, tag; Milo!

[Kayleigh Brigid O'Riley]

As Kayleigh surveyed her room with both awe and satisfaction, she found a trickle of gratefulness sweep through her. Her aunt had been under no obligation to leave her money to Brian and Kayleigh. What had possessed her to do so? Was it simply because they were all the family she’d had left? Did she have no friends, no others she might have wanted to give the money to? Kayleigh was determined to find out as much as she could about her aunt when she arrived in Boston. Until that point though, her curiosity would have to settle so she could focus on the present trip. If it wasn’t for her aunt, she wouldn’t be here. Here on the Titanic, and here in this beautiful room. She was both thankful and a little put out – she didn’t like this society. But what sane person didn’t like pretty things? Oh, she liked her surroundings well enough. And she had more than enough food, well made and properly fitting dresses... she strove to remind herself of the good, and not focus on the bad. She used to be mostly optimistic. What had happened?

There was a medium sized trunk that stood out. Kayleigh looked it over with a faint frown. It wasn’t hers. It looked awfully familiar though...

Turning the tag over, she sighed. It was Brian’s. It wasn’t so terrible of a mistake really, her brother was only a few feet down the hall. But with things still chilly between them, she wasn’t in any real rush to make conversation with him. Going to the door she poked her head out into the hall, noting that everyone looked awfully busy. She could try to get a steward to carry the trunk to Brian, but she doubted she was going to find one that wasn’t otherwise occupied.

Well, it couldn’t be that heavy, could it?

There was a handle on one end, a small brass thing. She grabbed it, testing the weight of the trunk. She could pull it, but she wasn’t going to be able to carry it. Fine. Then she would pull it. She’d get a few weird looks, or a lot of them, but did it matter? Not really. Everyone’s opinion on her was already made up anyway.

Kayleigh went to the door and propped it open before returning to Brian’s trunk. She took firm hold of it and began to pull, feeling the strain of it. But now she’d made up her mind to do it herself, and Kayleigh was incredibly stubborn. So she got it out into the hall, careful not to bump into anyone. She hoped no one decided to not pay attention and ended up walking into it. It could be funny, or absolutely terrible, depending on who it was.

Only about a foot or two from her door she sighed, then hurried back to pull her stateroom door shut. Not that anyone was going to go in there and loot her room with her hardly two feet away, but any excuse to give her already aching arms a little bit of a break was a good one. Stupid trunk. Stupid stewards who couldn’t read the clearly labelled trunk tag. Just because she and Brian shared a name didn’t mean they shared a stateroom too.

[Milo Cornelius de Montfort]

Milo had settled into his stateroom with absolutely no sense of curiosity whatsoever. He glanced at the fine furnishings, peered with some discomfort out of the porthole, and then artlessly dismissed the butler. Shep was corralled in for the duration of the launch; the very last thing Milo wanted was to see him barking on the dock as the ship departed. Mr. Jackson was a quiet man. He seemed observant. He had made a point of checking Milo's entire stateroom the moment they arrived, and he didn't look up or speak until he was satisfied. When he was dismissed he nodded curtly, and retired to the adjoining room -- which was where he would sleep. He would never be more than fifteen feet away.

Milo didn't like it one bit. He was restless and claustrophobic on boats. Ocean travel did not suit him all that well, though he had good sea legs and didn't tend towards sickness. He ventured out into the corridor and huffed a deep sigh, hands crammed into his pockets. He had removed his neck-tie and loosened his shirt collar a little, tossed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He was considerably more swarthy as he ventured around a corner -- the sound of a heavy trunk being dumped unceremoniously drawing his attention.

He peered around the corner and recognised at once the flame-red hair belonging to Kayleigh O'Riley. She was far more appealing when she didn't know he was there, he thought impishly. Still, he couldn't very well leave her hauling that thing by herself, he supposed.

"Perhaps I underestimated you, Miss O'Riley," he said, stepping out from behind the corner, "you shall put the stewards out of a job. Might I offer to lend you a hand?"

His tone was laced with humour. He found her terribly amusing, suddenly -- the overwhelming sense of relief as they pulled out of England putting him at a much better disposition generally. He felt safe for the first time in weeks. He knew she was nobody's stooge. She was well on the way to hating him thoroughly, so he was in no danger of becoming her suitor -- yes, he felt quite safe provoking her now.

He turned his palms up and gestured to the trunk, moving beyond she and it to stand on the opposite side, eyeing her with some amusement.

[Kayleigh Brigid O'Riley]

"Perhaps I underestimated you, Miss O'Riley."

Kayleigh glanced up, surprised at the sound of a faintly familiar voice. Oh dear, not him again. At least this time he didn’t look nearly so agitated, but Kayleigh doubted that it would last.

"you shall put the stewards out of a job. Might I offer to lend you a hand?"

She frowned, watching him. What was with the suddenly changed nature? Now he was joking, teasing, whereas hardly an hour ago he’d been aloof and... and very nearly moody. Was this the norm, or had that been the norm? “I’m sure I’ll be quite fine on my own,” she said lamely, knowing it wasn’t true. Despite the fact that the trunk wasn’t too terribly heavy, it was awkward. It certainly wasn’t something she could easily move on her own from her room to Brian’s. But though it was obvious, and though no one would likely expect that she should be able haul the thing herself, she had a difficult time admitting that she couldn’t. Especially to him, when she held him in such low regard – his own fault, she told herself. If he wasn’t normally the disagreeable sort that he’d been earlier, how was she to know that? First impressions were important, after all.

Still, she watched him walk around to the other side of the trunk, palms out, and she sighed. “Well, I suppose a little help couldn’t hurt,” she replied begrudgingly. “I’m taking this trunk from my room here, to my brother’s. It’s just the next door over.” Not that far – she felt more than a little stupid. “I didn’t want to bother a steward over it when I could, theoretically, just do it myself. Nor did I want to call my brother.” They weren’t exactly on good terms at the moment. Kayleigh sighed; this just wasn’t her day.

[Milo Cornelius de Montfort]

"Oh. And he doesn't carry his own luggage, either?"

Milo didn't waste any time, though, he lifted the other end of the trunk and almost muttered an oath under his breath at the weight of the blasted thing, but caught himself in time and grimaced, testing it on his arm. Once it was off the floor it wasn't bad, it was just the initial lift that made him want to rip his arms off and go home.

"And I expect that your brother is the familial obligation in question," he said mildly, gesturing for her to walk backwards. He was tall enough to see over her, and the corridor was, for the moment, clear. He only barely remembered his own brother now. He remembered clearly the night he had been killed, it was just that his face had faded.

There were no pictures of him, or his sister. A dark, distant look crossed Milo's face -- the sort of distressed expression he made when he tried to remember their faces and couldn't. It passed quickly, however.

"You should tell him that it's cruel to pack elephants in this manner. I suppose it would be rude to ask what's in this but short of a small whale, I couldn't possibly imagine."

[Kayleigh Brigid O'Riley]

“Oh. And he doesn’t carry his own luggage, either?”

Kayleigh rolled her eyes but didn’t bother with a response as he helped her left the trunk. He motioned for her to walk backwards and she did, carefully. Tentatively. The last thing she needed was to trip and have the whole damn thing fall on her. She was a little bit thankful for his help, and would tell him that when they got to Brian’s room, even if she really didn’t want to. “Yes, he is the ‘familial obligation,” she said offhandedly, focused more on not tipping over, not tripping, and keeping the trunk off the ground. She really should have just called a steward to do this. She was sure they were more accustomed to this sort of work than she.

“It probably would be rude to ask what was in it – but it doesn’t matter much, as I’m not sure myself.” Brian had taken to the wealthy life much quicker, much easier, than she had. She didn’t really hold it against him. To each their own, she supposed. Still, it didn’t make sense to her – no one thought any better of him than they did of her. Well, alright, maybe that wasn’t true after the failed engagement. Maybe now he was the lesser of two evils, so to speak. Not that it mattered; she had to keep telling herself that. If she was going to get by, she had to stop caring about what everyone else thought of her. She should take advantage of her less than stellar reputation – it meant she could do whatever she wanted to do. She couldn’t ruin her reputation much more, after all.

Ah here they were. Kayleigh slowly stopped beside his door, carefully setting down her end of the trunk and motioning for him to do the same. “Here’s his room but...” yes, she should have gotten a steward to deal with it. Now faced with standing by her brother’s door she came to the realization that she really didn’t want to knock on it and talk to him just now. She didn’t want to argue, and not in front of anyone else either. Eventually she and Brian were going to have to talk things out.

But not now.

“Let’s just leave it here. It’s not really in the way, and a steward will come by and deal with it. I don’t... I don’t really want to talk to him right now.”

[Milo Cornelius de Montfort]

"Are you aware that you change your mind every five minutes?"

Milo wasn't annoyed, just perplexed. He didn't know, really, what reaction he wanted from her -- but so far he'd never gotten it! Maybe she just didn't want him to meet her brother. That was well and good, he had no desire to meet the mysterious male counterpart to this flighty, fickle little woman -- she would never, ever be satisfied!

"I expect it would be perfectly safe to leave it here," he grumbled grudgingly. "Anybody inclined to take it will have bloody well earned it if they get it out of sight, at any rate."

He stretched a little, flexing his fingers and working out some of the tension from carrying the heavy trunk, and then looked at her quizzically.

"Is there anything else I can help you with? Or perhaps not help you with, after all?"

He was teasing her, but in a sort of prodding way that wasn't particularly affectionate -- he didn't really know her well enough to joke with her in this manner, but he had decided that decorum was wasted on her. No matter what he did she would react the opposite way, so he might at least enjoy himself.

[Kayleigh Brigid O'Riley]

Giving him a dark look, Kayleigh crossed her arms as she glanced down at the trunk. She didn’t change her mind every five minutes! She hadn’t changed her mind in the slightest – she’d wanted to remove the trunk from her room, and bring it to her brother’s. And, technically, she’d done just that. Here it was, beside his door. So there. Why she didn’t want to actually knock on his door was none of Milo’s concern. “I don’t change my mind every five minutes,” she replied coolly, albeit childishly. And then she decided she neither wanted to, or had to, defend herself and her actions to him. She hadn’t asked for his help with the trunk, after all. She hadn’t gone looking for his company either.

“No, there isn’t anything else you can help me with,” she replied then, glancing down the hall. “And I assure you, I would have been perfectly capable of moving that trunk on my own. It would have taken me a little longer but...” But what? She would have looked even more of a fool, doing it. But did that even matter? No. No it didn’t matter. “But I would have managed,” she finished somewhat lamely. “I would have managed just fine, but thank you nevertheless.” She didn’t sound altogether thankful, but she supposed if she didn’t offer an off-handed apology, at the least, he’d find cause to taunt her about her appalling manners as well.

“I’m surprised you even have a moment to lend a hand, what with that uncontrollable dog of yours no doubt wandering about somewhere. Hopefully it isn’t causing any further trouble – or is that how you entertain yourself? Prompt the creature to go cause trouble, so you can swoop in and be entirely aloof and annoying? Is that how you pick your targets then?” She didn’t like his attitude with her, that teasing sort of tone he took. Not that she was above teasing – she resorted to it often. However, in her opinion, this was much different. They didn’t know each other at all, and teasing was best when it was playful and not mean spirited.

[Milo Cornelius de Montfort]

"Targets?" Milo laughed. "How very much in keeping with the rest of your behaviour, to imagine that you must have been chosen. You can rest easily at night, Miss O'Riley, for if it weren't for fate I shouldn't have glanced twice in your direction."

That was perhaps unfair. No, it was entirely unfair -- had he spotted her across the room, and had he an entirely different life to lead, he might have considered her very pleasing to the eye. He might have fabricated any number of reasons to approach her, dog or otherwise. It was only a shame that he was who he was, and she was who she was, and his dog... was his dog.

He felt badly for being so cruel, though, however true the statement. He made it sound as though it were her fault and not his, for a start.

"Sorry," he muttered, looking away. "I did not mean that so unkindly as it was spoken."

[Kayleigh Brigid O'Riley]

"How very much in keeping with the rest of your behaviour, to imagine that you must have been chosen. You can rest easily at night, Miss O'Riley, for if it weren't for fate I shouldn't have glanced twice in your direction."

Kayleigh stood still, offended and stung though she was quite determined not to voice it. She didn’t care what he thought, and she most certainly shouldn’t care whether or not he might have otherwise found reason to approach her if it hadn’t been for his dog jumping on her. “Well, I’ve been properly put in my place it seems,” she replied, her voice icy as she looked him over. “I imagine you’re quite good at that, aren’t you? Putting people in their place, I mean.”

"Sorry. I did not mean that so unkindly as it was spoken."

“No, of course you didn’t.” Kayleigh replied wryly. She didn’t believe him, even if he had the good grace to look away. “Slip of the tongue was all it was; you meant, of course, to say something entirely different.” Well, good for him. “Let me guess? You’re just misunderstood. Just burdened down by pressures of all sorts that I could never understand.” Kayleigh rolled her eyes, unimpressed. “Thank you for your help, sir; it seems you and I don’t do well in each other’s company for long periods, however. Perhaps we ought to cut this meeting short. You can spare yourself the strain of having to come up with further ‘unintended’ insults and I can spare myself the discomfort of having to hear them.”

[Milo Cornelius de Montfort]

Milo shook his head, and reached to grasp her wrist lightly to keep her from walking away from him.

"No. You couldn't understand. You shouldn't understand. Nor should I, for that matter. If I could explain myself properly you wouldn't believe me."

He had a dark, tormented sort of look about his features for a moment. The prospect of putting into words just precisely what a mess he was had no appeal whatsoever. It seemed to hear it out loud would only solidify his position as an outcast. He dropped her arm, and shook his head remorsefully.

"As spirited and unkind as our repartee has been, madame, I have on this occasion been unfair to you. I'm certain that you know perfectly well I wouldn't say so unless it was patently obvious. To admit defeat at all is, I expect, not in either of our natures." He smiled ruefully, and then raised an eyebrow. "Cyrus Crane is a lucky man. Brave, but lucky."

[Kayleigh Brigid O'Riley]

Kayleigh, with her (normally) nurturing nature, almost felt the need to ask him if he was alright. He looked bothered when he said she shouldn’t understand, and neither should he. At first, when he’d taken hold of her wrist to keep her from walking away, she’d been startled and turned to look at him – ready to give him a piece of her mind. She’d told him to keep his hands to himself, after all! But with that bothered look on his face, she managed to keep her words to herself. What could torment him so?

When he dropped her arm she pulled it in towards herself and against her stomach, but not sharply, and not angrily. Simply instinctively.

She was stunned by his apology and nodded mutely. Indeed, it appeared accepting defeat was no more in his nature than it was in hers. She fleetingly wondered at his story – what had caused him to be as he was – but she did not ask. “Yes, well, I’ve not been as well mannered as I could have been either,” she acknowledged a little begrudgingly. “For that, I am sorry.” There, she’d apologized. Perhaps now they could go their separate ways. But now she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to – as irritating as he was, he was a little intriguing as well.

“Cyrus Crane is a lucky man. Brave, but lucky.”

His words seemed to undo whatever progress he might have made and Kayleigh’s face turned red, her irritation rising once more. “Lucky, is he? Lucky that he called off the engagement before he could be stuck with me, is that it?”

Perhaps it was unfair to jump to that particular conclusion. Perhaps that hadn’t been what he’d meant. But Cyrus Crane was something of a sore spot for her just now. Still, she forced herself to cool down some – enough to keep from making any further sharp remarks, anyway. “I don’t much care for standing here in the hall where anyone might wander by and listen in.” Not that she had any secrets to tell – and none that she would tell him. But she didn’t like to feed the rumour mill; gossip ran rampant among the wealthy. “I’m going out onto deck to enjoy the air while it’s still moderate in temperature.”

Kayleigh turned and took a few steps, then paused and sighed, turning to glance back over her shoulder. “If you have nothing else to do, I suppose you may as well join me – better than being alone, perhaps.”

[Milo Cornelius de Montfort]

“Lucky, is he? Lucky that he called off the engagement before he could be stuck with me, is that it?”

Milo was startled as he realised the full extent of the situation with her engagement -- he had suspected it was off or postponed before, but he had wrongly presumed it was at her whim, not his.

"Lucky to have even entertained you at all," he said cannily, in an unprecedented moment of wit and charm that betrayed the man he could -- and by all rights should -- have been.

If he hadn't offended her so he might have pointed out that the deck was no more private than a hallway, but he bit his tongue because he was quite finished causing damage, he had decided. He was about to bid her goodbye (and perhaps mentally, good riddance) when she invited him to join her.

That was... unexpected. Milo thought about it for a long moment before he shook his head slowly.

"I'll have to decline, Miss O'Riley. Much as it would please me to accompany you it... is perhaps for the best if I do not. I hope the rest of your journey is a more pleasant one. Good day."

Milo turned to leave, and failed to notice the figure of Mr. Jackson hovering at the far end of the corridor, watching their exchange with interest. When he was certain Milo had gone he fell into step behind the young lady, his stride purposeful and quick.

He intended to catch up to her and ask her just how she knew the young master, and what her business with him was.

"Madame -- excuse me," he called out for her at last, then cleared his throat loudly. "If you wouldn't mind -- just a moment of your time, please."

[Kayleigh Brigid O'Riley]

"I'll have to decline, Miss O'Riley. Much as it would please me to accompany you it... is perhaps for the best if I do not. I hope the rest of your journey is a more pleasant one. Good day."

Kayleigh nodded, not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. Well, it didn’t matter. He’d made up his mind and she wasn’t going to say anything either way. “Of course. Good day to you too.” She contemplated a less curt response, but couldn’t really come up with one. So she stayed silent as he turned to go, then turned herself to head for the deck. This voyage wasn’t turning out at all as she’d planned it. Well, she supposed with a sigh, everything could have ended up worse.

"Madame -- excuse me. If you wouldn't mind -- just a moment of your time, please."

Stopping short, Kayleigh turned around curiously. Well now, who was this? He looked strangely familiar, as though she’d seen him around recently. Was he with Mr Fairfax? That could be it. She looked up at him, a little daunted, and altogether curious. What could he want with her?

“Good afternoon,” she said slowly, studying him. “How can I help you, Mr...?”

((ooc: sorry, my reply is lame. >.<))

[Milo Cornelius de Montfort]

((ooc: I'm sorry my reply is LATE. We had loads to do the last four weeks at work, because it all tied in w/ easter and the royal wedding, and I am a failwhale who can't juggle))

Milo disappeared with distinct misgivings in his stomach. He always felt as though life were thoroughly unfair when he had to ignore his baser, human desires in favour of keeping his profile low and his life quiet. He was only just now becoming aware of much he was lacking in his life someone so vibrant and lively as Miss O'Riley. Even when they were thoroughly at odds with one another it was the most he'd felt he'd lived in a long time, and she did not deserve, he knew, to be brushed off without so much as an explanation, but it was how it would need to be.

Mr. Jackson was not privvy to any of these things, nor was he aware that Kayleigh and Milo had only met hours before hand. He rather thought their intimate conversations, combined with their propensity to be alone together, meant something quite illicit and secret was going on.

"Good afternoon, Miss. Jackson is my name. I was hoping you might explain your business with Mr. Fairfax? That is how he is known to you, one must presume."

Jackson watched her carefully. Did she know his real name?

[Kayleigh Brigid O'Riley]

((Ooc: mine was later... >.> You might not even ever read this, but IF YOU DO AND WANT TO CONTINUE –hence the pm- here you go. =P))

She wasn’t sure if she had misunderstood the question or if, perhaps, it really was as strange a question as she thought it. “My business with him?” She asked, her brows furrowed. “I have no business with him, really.” Kayleigh tilted her head to the site, frowning a little. Of course she knew him as Fairfax. Mr Milo Fairfax. What else would she know him as? That was, after all, how he’d introduced himself. She had previously had no reason to doubt him… until now. The strange man standing in front of her had raised questions, curiosities, though Kayleigh did not put them into words. Still, it was all so… peculiar. Very peculiar.

“Mr. Jackson, I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure what it is you’re asking me,” she said, a slight hesitation, a waver, in her voice. “Nor am I entirely sure who you are, name aside. Are you Mr. Fairfax’s… friend? Uncle? Butler?” Although, if he was any of those things surely he would already know who she was. Kayleigh suspected if Mr. Fairfax had been traveling with anyone close to himself, he might have confided in said traveling companion about the irritating young woman who his dog had run down.

“I’m sorry,” she said with the faintest shake of her head, “I should go, I have other obligations to see to yet this afternoon.” Damned familial obligations, as she had taken to calling her brother. She couldn’t go on letting them be at odds with each other – he was the only person she knew on this blasted ship. Other than all those high society biddies who would only seek to call her down and make her feel bad about herself, of course. “I have no business with Mr. Fairfax and I daresay I never shall.” Even if she didn’t find him so terribly irritating… she had no doubt he found her to be as such.