One on One RP anybody?

Lincoln’s expression became colder again as the dim candlelight flickered across his face. His eyes were a rich brown, accusatory and defensive “Are you trying to steal my inventions? My ideas?” He stole a quick glance to the papers and drawings on his wooden table, “What did you learn?” He pressed, taking a step closer to the strange man.

Lincoln relaxed at the reassurance. This man didn’t seem like a threat anymore, just..confused maybe. He set the candle back down on his table and lit a few others, “So, Ah..what’s your name?” He side glanced to him, squinting to see the vague figure. Once his desk candles were lit, he went to the side of the room to light the lamps on the walls so he could hopefully see his strange acquaintance better.

(I won’t be active much today or tomorrow but I’ll answer as much as I can)

(Sweet! I’m back!)

“Lincoln Egle,” he responded, eyes briefly glancing to the pocket. He didn’t think much of it, dismissing the suspicious thought, “Well..” If this man didn’t have any evil intentions, he might as well provide some hospitality, “Are you too cold? I can light the fireplace for you if you need.” He spoke, chin slightly tilted down and away, but his eyes stayed glued to his guest’s face now that he could see.

Lincoln felt a small spark of attraction in the pit of his gut. Jack’s hair, the curve of his jaw. Sodomy might be illegal, but you couldn’t get arrested for just looking.

(Lol! I’m honored XD)

“You’re welcome.” He sank down into his chair, “You can stay here for the night if you need. I would hate to make a guest leave shelter into the cold night.” He offered, only half attentive while he gathered his papers and sketches into a neat pile on his desk.

Lincoln tilted his head and pointed to the wall adjacent to his desk, “It’s right there, sir. There’s a dock just a few yards away right outside too, so be careful. It’s pretty dark and you could, Ah, fall in.” He stifled laughter at the thought. He himself had almost done that too many times in the early, early morning when he was too tired to think.

Lincoln was lucky enough to find a workshop with a living area upstairs, which was conveniently located across from the Southampton dock. It was where the Titanic would arrive in April when it was finished being fitted, and Lincoln couldn’t wait to witness the massive beast.

(Hmm just the basics
Inventor of the Egle Gear and company Altair Egle
Attended Oxford University
Born September 29, 1891
Died September 30, 1976
Cause of death claimed to be illness
Born to an Ethiopian mother and American father
No records of marriage, but raised a daughter named Michelle)

“You’re welcome, sir,” Lincoln shrugged and watched his guest leave before looking back to his desk. He fished out a sketch of a gear he’d been trying to work out. If he was lucky this gear would be able to be used in cars. He didn’t know how it could revolutionize the concept yet, but he would think of something along the way.

He reached to scratch the back of his neck at a budding headache.

( maybe he has no record being there because he's registered at a dormitory at Oxford but he's (illegally) staying at an abandoned warehouse that nobody's using instead? Would that work possibly?)

Lincoln's cat hopped up into his lap after he assessed the danger had left. The fluffy cat jumped up onto the table beside his papers, spreading out as he laid down.

Normally Lincoln would be annoyed at his cat for laying across his papers, but now he was preoccupied thinking about his visitor. Who was he, well, Jack Morgan, but who was he really? He tapped his pencil on the desk; would he ever get the chance to talk to him again? Or did he miss his chance?

(Ok cool!)

Lincoln sighed, setting down is pencil to stroke his hand across his cat's belly.

His cat curled around his hand and lightly bit his wrist, which only made Lincoln chuckle, "Silly cat." He freed his hand before pushing back his chair to stand.
The cat's eyes glowed an amber hue as Lincoln took the candle from the desk, leaving his furry pet in the dimmer light, "You hungry, furball?"

His cat only meowed back in reply, which Lincoln took as an affirmation.

Lincoln scooped out a can of preserved fish onto a plate for Blackwell and set it down to the ground, 'There's your dinner, pretty cat. I hope you appreciate it," he chuckled before heading to his bedroom to change into his nightclothes.

Anyone who knew anything useful about the Titanic would have to be in a government standing or position, or a very in-the-know engineer. The bustling streets had dwindled down the later the night became, down to a few stray rambunctious teenagers or insomniacs seeking to be distracted from their boredom by taking a walk down the dock. A few remaining store-owners, including fishmongers closed up their shops for the night, preparing for the early morning opening when the sun rose back up.

Lincoln sank down in his dining chair while he watched his cat eat. He tapped his temple, thoughts now permanently tied to Jack. Would he be around town for long? Should he go try to find him now and invite him for dinner tomorrow. He grimaced, no, that might seem too stalker-ish.

Blackwell looked up to Lincoln once he finished is dinner, smacking his lips happily and licking his muzzle free of any leftover meat.

Lincoln stared at the floor. He knew how strict the law was about this kind of thing. But there must have been something to the fact that he’d never thought about love until now. But of course there were no certainties in this situation. Chances were that Jack didn’t feel the same way about him, and chances were that he would probably even turn him in. That would completely ruin his plans for the future. He couldn’t risk that, could he?

Blackwell hopped up beside him and sank against his leg to nap there.

Lincoln reached over to douse the lamp beside his bed. He sank down and rested his head on the pillow, staring blankly at the ceiling while he lay deep in thought. Sure, in almost every country being with another man was illegal. But what if it was only behind closed doors? It couldn’t be a coincidence that he didn’t feel any attraction to women, but he had to Jack. Maybe there was something wrong with him, he reasoned, but the government couldn’t dictate everything that went on indoors. And who was he to strictly follow the law; he was already illegally living in an abandoned warehouse.

Lincoln’s mind went back to when he’d first seen Jack. He squinted in thought. He didn’t hear or detect anyone when he first entered the workshop. Given it was pretty dark without windows, but shouldn’t he have heard breathing or movement? Unless he entered after Lincoln, but again: he would have heard something. Or Blackwell would have heard something at least. This thought would puzzle him for quite some time until he figured it out. Unless Jack teleported—or was a time traveler. He snickered through his nose. No, that would be too crazy, even for his ideas.

Lincoln closed his eyes to try and sleep, but his thoughts kept him awake. Eventually he gave up and sat up in bed, picking up Blackwell to carry him back downstairs. He needed to find Jack again to quell his thoughts, get some answers (or maybe a date).

Blackwell meowed his reluctance to being carried back downstairs instead of going to sleep.

Lincoln stuffed his feet in his shoes, shifting Blackwell to one arm while he fumbled with opening door. In his excitement, he forgot his coat.

Lincoln stepped outside into the frigid street. "Damn.." he cursed, turning back inside to retrieve his coat. Instead of setting his coat down, he wrapped both himself and Blackwell in the coat before stepping back outside. He closed the door behind him and walked out into the docks. Jack couldn't've gotten far, right? He scanned the area, resisting the urge to blatantly call for him.