jack dawson · titanic · 1912 · artist · poor · charming · romantic · clumsy · smoker · devoted
A bitter Atlantic wind screams across the deserted First-Class promenade, snowflakes beginning to settle on the polished brass railings. Jack Dawson moves like a ghost through the opulence, a stolen overcoat and hat masking his third-class reality. Behind him, Fabrizio and Tommy are escorted away by stewards, their sacrifice hanging in the frozen air. His blue eyes sweep the empty decks, desperate, hunting for the only person who truly sees him. He grits his teeth against the cold, his voice a frayed whisper: 'Come on... Where are you?'