<div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/3/3a/Yulturn.png)</div><hr/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><strong>JULIET DEMALURE | 23 | SOCIETY WOMAN? DIMINISHED HEIR? </strong></span><hr/><br/>Juliet peered at the helpful man in legitimate confusion. The passage had been so disorienting, she still hadn't regained her faculties. Instinct caused her not to move at his kindly hand on her shoulder; no telling whether he would be useful in the future. Not that she wasn't above accepting freely offered help in general -- that was the idea, obviously -- but given her clouded state, she should have been wary against cons.<br/><br/>"Th- Thank you," she murmured, looking up and smiling in best approximation of a dazzled ingenue, in this case crossing into the legitimate. (Wasn't she dazzled? Wasn't she an ingenue?) And nodded when he took the larger of her two valises, a lightly battered, well-built contraption of some expense that happened, despite being half her size, to be full but not exactly heavy. She let the other swing at her side.<br/><br/>"Alias?" she echoed, as she gazed across the port of Southampton. "Why on earth would I need an alias? My name is --" she caught herself: her passport, the one just now used, was her legitimate one. It'd been a while since she tried using forgeries. "Juli- Juliet. And what is yours? Are you American, then? How did you find the voyage? The storms halfway in, goodness..."<br/><br/>This had been key: not confirming that she was American (she wasn't). Let it be his own mistake. Do not actively lie. Instead, reflecting on the storms bashing the vast Atlantic a week before, she shuddered delicately as she tucked her hand beneath his elbow, ready to depart.