<span style="font-weight: bold">Saturday, April 6, 1912 8:30am</span><br/><br/>"New here, eh? Well, let me see what you got," the foreman pointed to the papers that Leandro was clutching.<br/><br/>"Oh right. Here you go," Leandro complied.<br/><br/>The foreman nodded after taking a super quick glance, handing back Leandro's dossiers. It was if he didn't even bother reading through everything, just the top where his name was, and the bottom where the docks officer scribbled some words that apparently meant something to this foreman. Must be some code words.<br/><br/>"Okay, Mr. Leandro Matthews, before you get your hands dirty, talk to Mr. McElroy in his office on the Middle Deck. Just look for the 'F' once you board her, got it? You wanna get paid, right? Mr. McElroy is our Purser and will handle your papers and he'll give you further instructions. I'm Austin. Pleasure to have you on board!" Austin grinned, which made Leandro uneasy. It was if he was hiding something, or at least holding back information. Why didn't he offer to tell his full name, for one? And why did he look<span style="font-style: italic">that</span>happy?<br/><br/>"Gotcha! Should be easy enough," Leandro forced a smile as he moved on past him, continuing across the pier towards the first multi-decked structure with ramps connecting to various levels of the ship. There were labourers already busy bringing in medium to large furnitures and fixtures. Leandro tipped his cap to them and bid them 'Good day, gentlemen', before finding a break in the assembly line where he could step in and finally board the ship.<br/><br/>And although the context and reasons for his first setting foot onto<span style="font-style: italic">The Titanic</span>was every bit monotonous, menial, and mundane, he couldn't help but enter with an air of excitement, majesty, and inspiration. He could hear the deep thrumming from the ship's generators, but it wasn't until he stepped off the temporary and flimsy stability of the ramp and into her fortress that he felt his own heartbeats, after a jilting initial acclimation, starting to sync with<span style="font-style: italic">Her Majesty</span>.<br/><br/>His respiration, too. He felt like a mermaid reunited with the sea, breathing in her natural environment after being away for so long. But not without that initial unnerving experience of filling his lungs with fluid blue and ridding of the unseen impurity, of feeling like gasping for breath, before achieving an easy, calming breathing equilibrium.<br/><br/>And now, after navigating the pretty straightforward aisles towards the Purser's office, he stood just outside it:<br/><br/><span style="font-weight: bold"><div style="text-indent:1em;">Mr. Hugh Walter McElroy, Victualling Crew, Purser</div></span><br/>He felt obliged to pause, make the sign of the cross, catch his new-found breath, and gather his thoughts.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Wait 'til Uncle hear this! No more worrying where we gonna get the rent money! Ah, but I wonder if I can get payment in advance... Oh flummery. Maybe I shouldn't have lied about my name. Oh well. Here goes nothin'...</span>