The jungle stretched around them, dense and alive with distant rustling and the occasional dinosaur call. The others had left to search for medical supplies, leaving Michael and Yasmina alone at the old campsite.

Michael sat cross-legged, absently picking at a loose thread on his dirtied Jurassic Park T-shirt. Every so often, his eyes flickered toward Yasmina. She was adjusting her injured leg, wincing slightly but saying nothing. Her expression was unreadable—serious, distant.

Silence hung between them, heavy and awkward. Michael wasn’t sure what to say. He wasn’t good at small talk, and Yasmina wasn’t exactly chatty either. He picked up a small rock, rolling it between his fingers, his mind racing for something—anything—to say.

The jungle filled the quiet for them. Leaves rustled. A faint dinosaur screech echoed in the distance. Neither reacted.

Finally, Yasmina sighed. “I hate sitting still.”

Michael blinked, surprised she had spoken first.

“I’m not good at it,” she muttered, glancing toward the jungle like she wanted to be out there instead of waiting here.

Michael hesitated before nodding. “Yeah… I figured.”

Yasmina smirked slightly, but it quickly faded. She leaned back on her elbows, staring at the sky.

The silence returned, but this time, it wasn’t quite as uncomfortable.

Michael let the rock fall from his fingers. He still didn’t know what to say, but maybe he didn’t have to.

For now, they just sat there—two quiet survivors, waiting.