You know your role should be that of a dignitary, but you do everything with passion — business, politics, whaling, women. No one questioned your judgment on matters of the sea. They've started questioning it on matters of the heart, and frankly you're miffed. You know the stakes. You could lose your post over marrying this woman. You just can't fight how you feel.
Your one true cause, besides Bessie, is the slow death of the whales. You've spent enough time at sea to notice them vanishing, and you've quietly made it your mission to get nine nations to sign an agreement to stop the raw-tonnage harvests. It's the best thing you'll do this year.
Your catchphrase: "for the sake of the whales." Drop it at least once per act. Make it earnest; make it irritating. Delivery tic: say it with your hand on your heart, entirely without irony. Thomas will quote every catchphrase during the reveal — the tic is what makes it land.
Two days after the crash. A terrible business. The Hindenburg — the Titanic of the skies, they're saying. Three dozen dead. You can see Bessie's eyes welling, and for a moment you worry she's overacting it. A telegram arrives. Emilia has survived. Thank God. You hand the news to Bessie, perhaps a little roughly, and she — oh — she seems relieved. Yes. Of course. Emilia was on the flight.
You were with Bessie the night of the Saucy Soiree, mostly. Running around like a mad man, barely getting to spend more than a handful of minutes with anyone — including your now-betrothed. You did meet a lovely American fellow, though. A navy chap. Spencer, was it? You shared a boisterous two hours talking about blue whales, the Royal Navy, and the Americans' useless efforts to stop either. You ought to invite him to Seville in June.
You don't remember seeing Bessie for most of the night. She was the hostess; she was always somewhere. You were, too.
There really is no going back now. Rumors had been flying for months, of course, but folks were willing to turn a blind eye to what happens behind closed doors — if you had the decency to be a little ashamed about it. Bessie has not shown one ounce of embarrassment through the entire courtship. Dammit, you love this woman even when she drives you crazy. Tonight is a night for celebration — though your mind is already on the work ahead of you in the next few weeks.
Remember:
What you want to find out:
Your catchphrase: "for the sake of the whales."
The single most important day of your public life, and you have been married five days. You knew the timing was terrible; the agreement couldn't wait. Bess said she understood, and even if she didn't, she smiled for the cameras. Nine nations are signing today — nine. A year ago no one would have believed it possible. You've been on the hotel phone since four in the morning chasing last-minute commitments, sweating over the Soviet language.
You hired a chauffeur-and-translator for the trip, a woman named Josephine. Comes recommended. Multilingual, mechanical, apparently a former acrobat — useful when things go wrong with the car, which they have. You didn't realize Bessie had also invited her to… act as a guide. Fine. Let her. You have whales to save.
Your speech (delivered jointly with Bessie). Lovesick and a little gross, five days married, openly fussing with agitation because this is the biggest public policy day of your life. You speak first:
Thank you, one and all, for coming together to sign this agreement. For this is a crucial step to protect not just the whales, not just the oceans, but the very world itself. From the smallest sea shrimp to the mighty blue whale, we all have a role in keeping the ocean full of vibrant sea life. It's too easy to see the endless blue before us and think it limitless — but mankind's reach has stretched its tendrils around the globe, and if we are not careful, we will soon find we are choking the life not just from the seas, but from ourselves as well. For the sake of the whales — thank you for signing with us today.
(Then Bessie speaks.)
Remember:
What you want to find out:
End-of-act beat: At some point during the dinner, Josephine will bring you a satchel she says is yours, with an apology for mixing up the bags. Open it in front of the table. Look inside. Let your face do the reacting. Do not speak about it immediately. Let the table see you see it, and let them wonder. (A photograph of Bessie, leaving a hotel room at dawn, will be inside.)
Your catchphrase: "for the sake of the whales."
How exciting to be able to see Emilia off. You had business in the Dutch Indies and were able to travel to New Guinea before heading home. You helped both fund and fundraise for this trip, and after giving in to George's request for an interview you feel even more involved — perhaps more than Bessie is entirely comfortable with.
Remember:
What you want to find out:
Your catchphrase: "for the sake of the whales."
BREAKING NEWS (when Thomas reads it):
FAMED AVIATOR IN TROUBLE. REPEATED RADIO CONTACT HAS GONE UNANSWERED. AUTHORITIES FEAR THE WORST. LAST SPOTTED NEAR HOWLAND ISLAND, FLYING AT TOO LOW OF AN ALTITUDE. PILOT AND CO-PILOT PRESUMED DEAD.
Someone has tampered with Emilia's plane. Emilia has come back as a ghost to haunt the party until her killer is named. You didn't kill her; help identify who did. Your dinner with her the night before may have been the last time anyone saw her alone. Think about what she told you.