The memory pulls them back, laughter bubbling up as they recall the chaos. The cramped submarine kitchen, the dim flickering lights, the stale air thick with frustration. Rose can still see Jack rummaging through the tiny fridge, holding up that can of Mysterious Meat with a cocky grin. She had been starving, but the sight of that expired can—and Jack’s terrible jokes—made her lose her appetite instantly.
The memory plays out so clearly, they can almost smell the stale air and hear the distant hum of the failing submarine. The way Jack had dared to joke in the middle of their misery, the way Rose had nearly lost it at the thought of eating century-old mystery meat—it was ridiculous. But somehow, even in the worst moments, there had been laughter. Maybe that’s why they made it out. Maybe that’s why they made it together.
Jack smirks, shaking his head. “I still can’t believe you almost made me the meal instead.”
Rose rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide her smile. “Trust me, it was tempting.”
Then, as if remembering something far worse, her smile falters. She turns to Jack, brow raised.