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I had just finished up my shift in boiler room #3 when I was flagged down by one of the ship's engineers; he was leaning against a bulkhead talking with a steward. The moment I got close to them, the steward wrinkled his nose. My senses had long since stopped complaining about my working conditions, but I knew I wasn't decent in my current condition. I stunk of sweat, and coal dust stained my pelt; I looked more like a black fox than a red fox. After roasting in my own fur for the entire four hour shift, my natural fox musk became acidic and harsh.

"I have a message for you," said the steward as he unceremoniously pressed a piece of paper into my dirty black paws. Before I could even open the note, the steward had turned to retreat back to the clean, comfortable parts of the ship.

I looked at the note. On the outside of the note was my name written in elegant cursive handwriting. The coal dust in my fur smudged the clean white paper as I opened it. I read the note and jumped in shock.

The engineer saw my reaction. "Is everything all right Liam?"

"Ay," I lied as I folded the note back up and shoved it into one my overalls' pockets.

Normally, the first thing I would do after a shift would be to scrub my pelt to get some of the dust out of it to restore its rich red color and white patches. Instead, I skipped going back to the crew quarters and headed for the upper decks of the ship. I couldn't justify cleaning up for this. I had told him before this couldn't work, so I didn't care if he saw me like this. It was time to bring this to a close.

When I reached the correct floor, I stepped out of the stairwell into a completely different world. While the crew quarters of the ocean liner were cramped and stuffy, the first class cabins were more spacious and luxurious than any place I had ever lived.

One of the floor's stewards spotted me right off and tried to intercept me.

"You can't be here," he said hurrying up to me.

"Mr. Patters sent for me, sir," I said pulling out the note.

The steward, an ermine, looked shocked. He glared at the paper in my paws. He went to take the note, but he pulled back after noticing the coal dust that stained the paper. I held the note up for the steward, waiting. Gingerly he took the note and opened it. His mouth fell open when he read it.

"You're tracking coal dust across my carpet," he said demurely as he folded the note and handed it back to me.

"Do ya want me to leave Mr. Patters waiting?" I asked the ermine with a quirky expression.

"No," he mumbled, "this way." We walked down the hallway in silence and stopped in front of one of the cabin doors. The steward knocked, and we waited. There was no response for a moment, and then the door opened. In the doorway stood Charlie Bartholomew Patters, heir to the Patters' fortune. He was wearing a dress shirt with an unbuttoned collar and a vest over it; his gray fur, with its black and red streaks, complemented the dark colored vest.

"Sir, this gentleman has a note claiming to be from you saying that you wished to speak to him. I do not wish to intrude..." started the steward.

"I did indeed send for him," said the wolf cutting off the steward. "Liam and I have some business to talk about." The ermine blinked, bobbed his head, and quickly retreated down the hall. I just stood there in front of the door and glared at Charlie.

He frowned at me. "It would have been nice if you had cleaned up before coming, Liam."

"That would defeat t'e whole point of me coming as I was, sir. I am just a humble stoker."

He sighed. "Would you please come inside and stop making a scene."

I walked in with a chuckle, tail swaggering back and forth. "It isn't appropriate..."

He cut me off, "for an Englishman such as myself to be seen with a poor Irishman like you. Nor is it proper for me to commit sodomy with you or anyone else. I'm quite aware of the social norms. You don't need to remind me."

"I take it t'is won't be a short conversation," I quipped. "Is t'ere a preferred chair ya wish for me to soil with my dirty, sodomite body?"

"You never miss a beat I see."

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "We are two days out of Southampton and are now out in t'e middle of the Atlantic Ocean. It's three days to New York. I see you've chosen now to spring ya little trap. There is no coincidence t'at you are here; ya know what ship I sail wit'. I doubt ya even have business to attend to in America. I would guess the entire reason you took t'is voyage was just so ya could talk to me again."

"Actually, I do have some business to conduct in New York. I only decided to take care of it in person since you would be here."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Close enough. I've told ya how I feel. I'm sure ya have some great speech prepared, which you can take and shove. I don't want to hear it."

He grabbed one of my arms. "Stop this Liam. I love you."

"You say t'at, but I don't really believe ya."

"Liam, please," he said.

"We're from very different worlds. Worlds that don't want to cross."

"Times are changing. Slowly maybe, but they are changing. You should be more optimistic than that."

"T'at's easy for ya to say. Ya don't stoke boilers for a living." I growled.

"Do you remember when we first meet Liam? Do you?"

I did of course. It had only been eight months ago, but it could have been yesterday for how clear the memory was.