He looks at me with a puzzled expression. “I thought you said we were studying?”
“We are.” I smile as I pull out the trays from the box, revealing the newly assembled Titanic version of the game.
Ben laughs as he looks at the characters facing him. “Gotta hand it to you, Al. This is good.”
I draw the card of my character and hand the box to Ben to draw his.
“Remember, yes or no questions only.” I nod towards the board. “You wanna go?”
“Ladies first, Alice.”
I roll my eyes and laugh. There he goes, already getting into the 1912 character. “Nice one. Alright. Is your person a man?”
“Yes. Is yours?”
“Nope.” We both start flipping over pictures on our boards that don’t tick those boxes.
“Umm… is he a crew member?”
Ben glances down at the board. “No. Is yours a passenger?”
“Yes,” I reply as I flip over notable crew members like Captain Smith, Charles Lightoller, and William Murdoch. “Is yours known for business?”
“Yup,” Ben replies as I flip over more characters, leaving just the richest tycoons that were aboard the ship. Ben giggles. “Does yours look like she’s got a dead bird on her hat?”
“Kind of.” I nod and start laughing. Before I can ask my next question, Ben interrupts.
“Margaret Brown!”
“Good job.” I laugh at his excitement. “Who did you have?”
Ben shakes his head. “Not telling. Keep guessing.”
I stare at my remaining options, looking for distinguishing characteristics that would limit the field further. “Okay… is he under the age of 50?”
“Yes.”
I flip over more people, leaving John Jacob Astor, Benjamin Guggenheim, and Edward Harrison.
“Hmm.” I stare between the three remaining characters. “Does he survive?”
“Yep.”
“It’s Harrison.”
“You got it.” Ben turns his board to show me. “He’s kinda cute in an old-timey way.”
“Not really. Look how smug he looks.” He looks to be in his mid to late thirties. His untrustworthy smile curves alongside his handlebar mustache.
“Man, you’re just rejecting guys in every century, aren’t you?” Ben laughs, which dissolves me into a fit of giggles too.
“Shut up and eat before your food gets cold.”
Ben devours his carbonara, stopping for wine every so often and a gesture showing his enjoyment of the meal.
He puts down his fork, turns towards me, and raises his glass to mine. “Cheers, Al. To taking a risk together.”
“Together,” I answer as I clink my glass with his.
