<img alt="" src="http://i57.tinypic.com/s6ummo.png" style="float:left; padding:6px;"/><span style="color: #BFBFBF">Despite the distance that separated the two, he could still feel her veiled eyes flash directly in his face as if she were before him. It was certainly not her ensemble that made her stand out from the other women on the dock although the way she dressed was the more surprising to him, splendid and very coquette. What drew his attention and helped him locate her amongst all the people on the dock, was the layered filled of luminous radiation her form was immersed with, almost too surreal to be true, making her stand out from the rest. An exhilarating ocean breeze braced him up as the man turned around meeting the look on the Chief officer's face.<br/><br/>“The reporters request to speak to you.”<br/><br/>Luciano stole a brief glance at the dock to see the Commander heading toward the ramp. He nodded his head and looked back at Marcini. “That is her. Please make sure you attend to her until I'm available again.” The two men conversed a little more as they walked towards the open deck. Reporters will always end up writing what they wanted to write and the man was never a big fan of them, but there were some who truly sought off the truth. At the end, they all end up asking questions unrelated to the main subject. War and world relations just seemed to be the most triggered subject of all. No matter who you were, a newly successful moving picture actor, a retired wealthy businessman, a homeless winning the lottery, these reporters would sooner or later disband the ritual they were covering, ending up seeking a whole different subject than the one they sought you for.<br/><br/>“Captain!”<br/>“Mister Graziennelli, is this your first voyage on the RMS Empress of Britain?”<br/>“Captain, is it true this is by far your biggest voyage?”<br/>“Of all the other available Italian Ocean liner ships, why the Empress of Britain exactly?”<br/><br/>“The Empress is in good hands and for this trip, she will be well taken care of in the hands of Italy.” As the questions continued to drown him deeper into an ocean of pure irritation and impatience, Luciano forced a civil smile and nodded his head to some, disregarding some questions, precisely answering others. “Indeed it is my first biggest voyage if we speak in terms of distance. The Empress though is by far the world’s most economical steamship for fuel consumption per horsepower-hour and I plan to beat the South African crossing’s world record of twenty-two days by sailing the Empress for eleven nights, arriving to Cape Town, South Africa, in exactly twelve days.”<br/><br/>“Captain, can you explain how do you attempt to beat the world record?”<br/><br/>As he moved around lightly, spring in his steps and reporters following around, his path crossed Hers and he bowed his head slightly with a welcoming smile the moment she angled herself away. “Since the ship will not be on a cruising voyage, there was no need for us to shut down two engines as usually done during the vessel’s crossings between England and Canada. We powered the Empress with four steam turbine engines driving four propellers. The two inboard propellers will take two-thirds of the power, the outboard propellers one-third. It is a wave-piercing jewel and our modified engines shall give her a maximum speed of 30.01 knots.''<br/><br/>Life was a crazy ride and nothing was guaranteed. Luciano glanced at the woman again and eyed her as she leaned over the rail and balanced herself on two elbows. Their very last reunion ended with a small, friendly chat. No other word about Darcy, his brother or some Kohler guy and one Isolde Devesreaux were muttered as he made a call to book himself another room for that night. The following early morning, Luciano lead himself back into his previous hotel room and dragged his suitcase silently out of the bedroom. His eyes fell upon the form of the sleeping Yvonne, on the couch, immersed in files and other report documents concerning the clinic incident. He picked her up in her sleep state and had made sure her form was laid comfortably on the bed, shoes removed and bed sheets covering her from shoulders down. Before departing that one morning, the man placed an envelope on the surface of the woman's purse. Inside the envelope was an invitation to a trip to South Africa two weeks away from that day. It also possessed informative contents about the location of departure, date and time in case she was still interested.<br/><br/>Luciano returned his attention to the reporters, briefly thinking of the matter that made the two individuals somehow partners in crime. The Chief officer on the other hand, walked up to Frau Wojcik and picked up her suit case. “Officer Marcini.” He introduced himself and smiled. “I have a special order from the Captain to show you to your stateroom. We have also assigned you your own personal attendant for this journey if you need one at all. Welcome aboard, Senorita Wojick. A guest of the Captain is a guest of mine.” The Chief officer bowed his head, momentarily taking off his hat and stepped to the side waiting for the female to follow. <br/><br/>Within the quarters of the Captain, the balcony suite destined for the very close guests, relatives or friends - in this case the dame - was one of the newly renovated 1st class suites and designed to suit the modern furnishing of the era with an added exotic touch. The suite would be naturally lit up but during night time, the few bulkhead lights would bring an automatic dim yet warm glow to the room, unless the lights are switched off. But even then, the darkness in one part of the suite near the balcony would be bathed in the heavenly light of a clear, starry heaven if the curtains were to remain pulled open to the side. The passenger of that particular suite - Yvonne in this situation - would be welcomed into their temporary habitat with a bottle of champagne and a gift card to unlimited visits to the Spa. This reading place was accessed by individual doors within the two suites. Both suites though had their own individual corridor exit doors.<br/><br/>“Captain, this is the dawn of a darker age, so what are your thoughts concerning the upcoming war?”<br/><br/>“Mister Grazziennelli,” One of the German reporters began, “are there any Jewish refugees escaping the war to South Africa?”<br/><br/>There it began, just like he expected it. Reporters converting the primary subject into one thing completely unrelated. Luciano raised a brow and smiled diplomatically, eyeing the German reporter. “My good man, you are asking for a confidential information concerning my passengers. I cannot release such information, but I can assure you that every passenger on this ship obtained their travel tickets legally. In other words, every passenger is legal to be on this ship.” The German reporter took notes of the information and nodded his head thankfully.  The ship gave its first horn as the reporters hurried towards the exit.<br/></span><br/><br/><br/><br/><br/><img alt="" src="http://i60.tinypic.com/2eb7ep3.png" style="float:right; padding:6px;"/><span style="color: #BFBFBF"><br/>She followed the Chief with a smirk and raised brows that said something snarky to any passersby.  When they reached the the suite, she humbled and gave him a soft smile.  “Thank you,” removing her sunglasses, she bowed her head gently, “but that will be unnecessary.  I have my personnel to attend me and prefer my privacy.”  <br/><br/>He gestured to the room with a sweep of his hand and she took to investigating casually.  Coming across the antechamber, her eyes widened and mouth parted unbiddenly, then she narrowed both with a shallow breath.  clearing her throat she turned back slowly.  “Excuse me, seniore, where does this lead?”<br/><br/>“Your stateroom is adjacent to that of the Captains,” he informed her.  Just as she suspected.<br/><br/>She nodded her gratitude once more and closed the doors on the gifts inside.  Instead she moved about to the window and stared out across the docks through the curtains there, wanting naught for those outside it to see her as well.  It was evident that these would provide quite the view on the water.  To Yvonne, however, it was the least gaudy thing about this whole trip and provided her comfort.  A sigh relaxed her shoulders.  This was about getting people to safety and righting her place with His Chosen, and the luxuriousness - reminiscent of Luciano’s hotel rooms - were the ruse that would allow her this feat.  It ran so perpendicular to her natural pace, to her nature itself, but it was a necessary sacrifice she would simply have to accept, and maybe even… enjoy.<br/><br/>Her blonde head returned to the face of the chief.  “Is it alright,” she asked, “if i were to remain here and make myself comfortable?  I have not been on the sea before and can’t be sure quite how I’ll react to the… launch of the Empress of Britain.  I would like to prepare myself.”<br/><br/>The older gentleman chuckled, but closed the door behind himself, and she tried not to jump so hastily over to her things.  She immediately opened the briefcase he’d carried in for her, having set them amongst the others, and pulled out the little blue-bound pages of her Bible.  Gripping it to her chest, she sent out a short prayer and crossed herself.  If she was honest with herself, she’d never been so nervous in her life.  She wasn’t, however, so she laid it in the nightstand beside the far too soft-looking bed which was ignored for the room that had offended her so, opening the door wide and taking a deep breath as she entered.<br/><br/>One wall was made entirely of a stack of books and another plaited with curtains and cushions for enjoying them.  If not for the door across from her, she would have preferred it’s almost-exotic simplicity.  In fact, she still did, but again, she could never admit something like that to herself.  Instead, she simply left the door wide so she could be aware if he tried to make contact through it rather than with a knock on her door.  When departure took longer than she expected, however, she returned, closing herself in, and laid back in the chair with her shoes off, the image of idle with a glass of champagne, book, and chair dragged by the bedlike bench for the added comfort of a curtain draped about her like a combined partition and blanket.  A Tale of Two Cities.  How perfect.</span>