Rose's eyes drift toward his lips, focusing on the movement of them.

She has to wonder why he wouldn't want dry clothes when they're available - though she supposes it would be hard to trust anything about a ship you suddenly find yourself in - and she decides she won't wonder any further. He must have his reasons, and she doesn't want to make too many assumptions of her own. Being here is strange enough.

Rose. My name is Rose.

And his name is Jack.

Thus why the narration decided to toss her at him. She thinks she's amusing, sometimes. :')