She endlessly worries herself about where she's wound up, how she got there...Jack is dead. She knew that much. And she saw Cal checking the steerage portion of the Carpathia in search of her, but she turned away. And he does sound remarkably like one of the Episcopalian reverends of Philadelphia, that enough earns her attention. "I'm Rose...de--Dawson. I'm seventeen years old. I was on the Titanic as it sank. So many others were, too."

She takes the reassurance with both hands. "How terribly peculiar. I know through my readings of Darwin that beings evolve to suit what their environments call for, but I'd never in all of my readings imagined that squid would be suitable for the winter months. Summer and spring months, certainly. But not winter."