Jenny knew that they, she more specifically since she had the advantage of her sight, should be doing something. But she didn't even know where to begin. For all of her fretting and worrying and acting from day one like they were heading for the bottom of the ocean, she'd only been exaggerating. Voicing a fear that was supposed to be too ridiculous to come true, in the day and age of state of art ships with navigation systems and charted seas.
She'd done plenty of moaning, but no actual preparing, and she was clueless about survival of this scale, even for a just a day or two. She'd have to look after Dahlia, and Lucy, and follow the leads of the other people. There was a slightly feminist side of her that rued to say it, but surely one of the men would step up and take charge, build a make-shift shelter or something. It wasn't ideal, but they were just other people, presumably good people until Jenny saw a reason to see otherwise. Things had to be okay.
"Good," the blonde replied absently. She wasn't cold either; she was almost overly warm herself, but she had kept her sweater wrapped around her shoulders for comfort. But also for modesty's sake, in front of all of the strangers, until she got a chance to change out of her nightie into something from their bag. She'd find them a private spot soon, and they both could. It might make them feel better to clean up and change once they were sorted, a little more human, or so she hoped.
Her eyes had drifted to the ocean, and her teeth pulled gently on her lower lip. Dahlia's simple words struck an unexpected chord with her, and just when she thought she was okay, a snippet of a Coleridge poem she'd read in a university class sprung to her mind. "Water, water, everywhere, nor any drop to drink," the blonde muttered with a sardonic giggle, which very quickly bubbled into a sob.