-29th December 1911; 10:18pm- ((four months before the Titanic's sinking)
"Sweetheart! Come join us, why don't you? It's lovely inside, don't you think? Oh, the tapestries, the china, the food! Why, I can't remember the last time I've enjoyed an evening quite so much before! And to think, your father's prepared something even better for us! Oh, sweetheart! Isn't it absolutely marvelous!?"
Realising it was my turn to speak, I turned to her and tried to look like I wasn't dying a slow and painful death down the path of boredom.
"Very."
My mother physically deflated at the tone of my voice.
"Connor," she scolded.
"Ma, I'm ninet-"
She cut me off with a loud clear of her throat. I tried not to sigh irritatedly.
"Mother," I ammended. Just breathe, Connor. Breathe. "I'm almost twenty years old. I don't need you to tell me what is and what isn't 'marvelous' anymore."
She rolled her eyes at me, and proceeded to lean on the balcony beside me, walking from the well-lit inside of Sir Edmund's mansion.
"Then act your age," she snapped.
My brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" I quipped.
"You can't be so clueless, Connor."
"... Clueless."
"Yes."
"Clue ... less."
"Clueless."
"About... marvelous-ness."
"Connor!" she cried out in a whisper; I could tell she was glaring at me. "Are you trying to rile me, or is it just a little talent of yours?"
"Should I answer that?"
She cut me off with a loud clear of her throat. I tried not to sigh irritatedly.
"Mother," I ammended. Just breathe, Connor. Breathe. "I'm almost twenty years old. I don't need you to tell me what is and what isn't 'marvelous' anymore."
She rolled her eyes at me, and proceeded to lean on the balcony beside me, walking from the well-lit inside of Sir Edmund's mansion.
"Then act your age," she snapped.
My brow furrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?" I quipped.
"You can't be so clueless, Connor."
"... Clueless."
"Yes."
"Clue ... less."
"Clueless."
"About... marvelous-ness."
"Connor!" she cried out in a whisper; I could tell she was glaring at me. "Are you trying to rile me, or is it just a little talent of yours?"
"Should I answer that?"
"Connor Freeman!"
I tried to hide the smirk, honest I did. Just not very well.
"Act your age, Connor, please! Son, you really just need to grow up," she started. I sighed quietly.
Here we go again.
"Please, please listen to me, will you?"
It's hardly like I can close my ea- No. Bad Connor. Listen.
"Sweetheart."
I didn't bother look over in her direction; I knew the expression well enough. Father wore it all the time.
Dissapointed.
"Connor, look at me. Look at me."
I tried to hide the smirk, honest I did. Just not very well.
"Act your age, Connor, please! Son, you really just need to grow up," she started. I sighed quietly.
Here we go again.
"Please, please listen to me, will you?"
It's hardly like I can close my ea- No. Bad Connor. Listen.
"Sweetheart."
I didn't bother look over in her direction; I knew the expression well enough. Father wore it all the time.
Dissapointed.
"Connor, look at me. Look at me."
