Billy took a deep breath, the sun high overhead. Monica settled into a chair made just for her, cooled by the only fan in the room. She was every inch a beauty queen—charming, subtle, full of desire, and poised like a siren, radiant in her allure.
There was sothing about this particular mont: her tanned legs, dark hair, and neckline, accentuated by a Prada dress in green with white and erald hues, made her look beyond stunning.
–We’re in the middle of what we’d call a crusade,– Caron remarked, wiping sweat off his brow every five minutes. Everything was progressing smoothly for now. Billy’s good mood made filming easier, and they were achieving record speeds, wrapping up scenes involving greetings, minor lines, and casual remarks. But it was only the beginning—much more remained to be done.
Billy took a break, preparing to suit up for one of the dayti scenes. As he put on his suit, Caron appeared, grumbling that one of the assistant caran had botched a shot and they’d have to reshoot the scene. Billy felt an overwhelming urge to bang his head against the nearest wall.
–Let’s hope this is the last ti,– Billy muttered, stretching as he set the suit aside. For now, he just needed to focus on imrsing himself in the atmosphere.
Scene 25, Take 32
INT. THIRD-CLASS COMMON ROOM.
The heart of third-class social life. It’s modest compared to the grandeur of first-class, but alive with noise and energy. Mothers cradle babies and children dart between benches shouting in various languages and being scolded by others. Elderly won yell n play chess, and young girls embroider or read penny novels. A worn piano stands in the corner, where Tommy Ryan playfully experints with its keys.
Three children shriek and run around, chasing a rat under the benches and trying to swat it with a shoe, creating chaos. Jack is seated with five-year-old Cora Cartll, drawing silly faces in a sketchbook.
Fabrizio, anwhile, struggles to strike up a conversation with a striking Norwegian woman, Helga Dahl, who sits with her family at a table across the room.
FABRIZIO: You don’t know Italian? Maybe a little English?
HELGA: No, no. Only Norwegian.
Helga’s gaze shifts toward sothing. Fabrizio follows her line of sight… and then Jack, curious, does the sa. Rose is approaching them. The room’s activity slows to a halt, replaced by stunned silence. Passengers of the third class stare at her—so with resentnt, others with awe. Rose looks directly at Jack, offering a small smile as she walks toward him. He stands to et her, grinning.
ROSE: Hello, Jack.
Kate aims for the sa nervous energy as the first ti, her flushed cheeks adding to her charm.
Fabrizio and Tommy are dumbfounded. It’s like Cinderella herself has stepped into the room.
JACK: Hello again.
ROSE: Could I speak with you in private?
JACK: Uh… sure. After you.
He gestures for her to lead the way. The caras follow as they leave the space. Though it isn’t far, every detail adds to the film’s expense—recreating everything so precisely is no small feat.
Billy glances over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow as he walks with her, leaving behind a stunned silence.
73. EXT. SHIP’S DECK – DAY
Jack and Rose walk side by side, passing passengers lounging and chatting on deck chairs. Curious glances follow the mismatched pair. Jack, in his rough attire, feels out of place. Both are visibly uneasy but for different reasons.
JACK: So… do you have a na?
ROSE: Rose. Rose DeWitt Bukater.
JACK: That’s a pretty fancy na. Maybe I should have you write it down for .
Jack’s playful deanor suits the character, lighthearted and unpretentious.
A pause lingers between them. Their eyes et. Kate looks down first, then Billy follows, as if choreographed. Finally, she gathers the courage to speak.
ROSE: Mr. Dawson, I...
JACK: You can call Jack.
ROSE: Jack… I feel like such a fool. It took all morning to work up the nerve to face you.
JACK: Well, here you are.
ROSE: Here I am. I wanted to thank you. Not just for helping back but for your discretion.
JACK: You’re welco, Rose.
ROSE: I know what you must be thinking: ‘Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?’
JACK: That’s not what I was thinking. I was wondering… what could have happened to make this girl so desperate that she felt she had no other way out.ROSE: I don’t know… it wasn’t just one thing. It was everything. It was them—it was their entire world. And I was trapped in it, like an insect in amber. I had to escape... to run, and run, and run. And then I got to the ship’s stern, and there were no more ships, no escape—not even the Titanic was big enough. Not enough to get away from them. And before I even realized it, I was over the rail. I was so angry.
‘I’ll show them! They’ll regret it!’
JACK: Right. Sure, they’ll regret it. After all, you’ll be dead.
ROSE: Oh, God, I’m such an idiot.
Kate lowers her head, but Billy’s eyes brim with innocence and love. Monica watches him act, and for so reason, she feels the pull to be part of the film. He’s undeniably a great actor, but there’s a passion in everything Billy does. He must be Italian.
JACK: That penguin from last night—is he one of them?
ROSE: Penguin? Oh… Cal. He is them.
JACK: Your boyfriend?
ROSE: Worse, I’m afraid.
She holds up her engagent ring, a massive diamond.
JACK: Wow, look at that thing. It would’ve sunk you straight to the bottom.
They laugh together. A passing steward frowns at Jack, clearly noting he isn’t a first-class passenger, but Rose stares back defiantly.
–Cut,– Caron calls, his voice carrying a deliberate gentleness as he checks the cara.
–Alright, let’s move on to the next setup,– Caron says, as the crew begins their preparations. Monica watches everything, her determination growing. This is what she wants. She’s brushed against it before but knows she must embrace it fully—live it completely.
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