Between the light swaying beneath their feet and the fancy dress, it was pretty easy to figure out the motif. The minute he was up on that platform and waiting for the countdown to finish, he was stripping the jacket off and tossing it far behind him before working on unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. Probably not the look his stylist was going for, but oh well.

As soon as he was set, he looked around to the others there. A lot of familiar faces, but his eyes found the one face that mattered most and settled there. Albert nodded towards Cecil, indicating where he was going and then nodded towards Jet to say where the New Yorker should go and Jet nodded in response. They might not have their brainwave transmitters anymore, but they didn't need them.

Once the gong rang, he bolted and reached for some of the supplies, but an explosion shook the ship and sent the blond to his knees. He was up in seconds and gathered a knife, a rope, and--after some searching--a small oxygen tank. He'd seen Titanic, he knew where this was headed.

The minute he had his supplies, he moved out of the way of the table and paused a few precious seconds to think over his options. Up. He should head up.