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Fifteen minutes barely gives you time to go and change your clothes. You are NOT going anywhere near anything called a "Steam Boiler C" inside your best dress. But also, because it will require go via the outside railing again, you make sure to wear your mantle, shawl and spencer.
You briefly consider whether to leave the necklace. You decide it's safer on your person. You don't suspect foul play from this - Newt is a lot of things, but he doesn't hire thugs. Regardless, if anyone tries some funny business, you are not entirely incapable of defending yourself. You have a small but very sharp dagger concealed inside your bodice. You never had to use it yet. But then, this has been an evening of firsts.
It is fortunate that the other guests are busy drinking themselves into a stupour inside the observation lounge. Your trip to the boiler room goes unnoticed. Even if someone intercepted you, you can always say you wanted to go for a stroll.
The boiler room is cramped, extremely hot, loud as all hells, stuffy and dusty. You don't know what else you expected, frankly.
The crewmember that passed you by on the bridge is there. He is currently busy shoveling coal. He is only in his undershirt. You reluctantly must admit to yourself that he has a very ... wiry physique. It doesn't help that he has taken of his shirt, and his muscles are glistening with sweat in the low, orange light of the furnace. Not bad at all, for a commoner.
You keep your hand close to the hilt of the dagger just in case.
"Why invite me here, of all the places on the ship?"
"It's my shift is, innit luv?"
He is using working-class Albion. You switch, but make sure you don't overuse complex words.
"Your Francian was simply terrible, anyway."
"That so? I think I did quite well, meself."
