rhythm.

Since childhood, people often have dreams of doing things that seem mundane, impossible, or filled with ideals. These aspirations appear difficult to parents or elders, who understand the challenges of such endeavors and the complexities tied to bureaucracy, education, effort, luck, and the randomness of fleeting sparks.

-Give me some of that coffee. - Kate said, completely mesmerized, grabbing the cup from Billy's hand and taking a sip of the black coffee as she examined the drawings. The details were magnificent, each line capturing a brilliance rarely seen. It was "real" in the sense of being the pinnacle of American comics, alongside works like Slam Dunk, which Real had eclipsed. Everything about it felt like an excuse to embrace the medium's unique, wonderful, and beautiful aspects.

She said, utterly entranced by the way she observed the comics. It was as though the magnificent details, brimming with allegories and intricate designs, could captivate people even before the creative process was complete.

It felt like being behind the scenes of a great masterpiece—either disappointing or rewarding. In this case, it was undoubtedly the latter. There was a distinct sense of admiration for Billy's ability to create elements from nothing, imbuing his work with a sense of knowledge and authority that was rare to encounter.

-Oh, I feel like I'm being annoying, but I can't stop looking at these drawings. I'll buy all your work. - Kate confessed, finding Billy's art remarkably innovative. His skill level mirrored the quality seen in manga or comics of 2020, far surpassing the competition. Billy truly embodied the prodigy who infused each of his pieces with exceptional brilliance.

-It's all about the image. You have to think of an image, much like in acting. People focus on a character they're portraying—imagining their walk, speech, reactions, and even perspectives. That's how you develop an idea of who you want to be. Drawing works the same way, except theoretically, it requires more knowledge than acting. You need to understand three-dimensional spaces, proximity, perspective, and style. It's perhaps too broad for a short conversation. But essentially, you must form images in your mind and sequence them, like in a video. Frames created by your imagination—like wanting someone to run, then imagining them moving down a street, surrounded by people. The detail lies in the action, the anatomy, the space, and the technique. - Billy explained, picking up a pencil and sketching slowly. He began with a rough outline, a collage of geometric shapes.

After a quick sketch, he erased the shapes and refined the drawing with greater detail, demonstrating the progression from a fast sketch to a meticulous one.

-Learn to skip steps that overcomplicate the image... I think I'll settle for just seeing the final product. People often underestimate how hard it is. I step back and watch, but it seems easier at first glance. - Kate remarked, observing the intricate process. She was wrong, though; the real challenge was rooted in genius. The work occupied a space accessible only to a rare talent, less than 1% globally. What seemed difficult to outsiders was impossible for many professionals, whose critical eyes studied every image and page, later using them as educational tools—a value often overlooked by others.

-You truly have no idea how hard this is. - Billy said, offering a smile that subtly questioned Kate's words, emphasizing her misunderstanding.

The cutting bell rang, and everyone returned to their places. Filming resumed, demanding perfection from everyone involved.

Cameras were everywhere. They ascended the stage—a bare ship deck that transformed into an elaborate set. Everyone moved to their designated spots as the organization unfolded.

-Does everyone know their positions? - Cameron called out, standing beside his assistant director.

Usually, it was the director of photography who dictated some of the positioning, alongside Russell Carpenter. Occasionally, even John Ladou would lend a hand.

Scene 23, Take 6.

EXTERIOR. HATCH DECK – NIGHT

Jack is lying on one of the benches, gazing at the brilliantly shining stars overhead, lost in artistic thoughts and smoking a cigarette.

Hearing something, he turns as Rose comes running up the stairs from the well deck. They are the only two on the aft deck, except for BOATSWAIN ROWE, who is six meters above them on the docking bridge walkway. She doesn't see Jack in the shadows and runs past him.

FOLLOWING ROSE as she races across the deserted fantail.

EXT. AFT PROMENADE DECK – NIGHT

Her breathing is ragged, occasionally breaking into a sob that she suppresses. Rose slams against the base of the aft flagpole and clings to it, panting, staring at the black water.

She starts climbing over the railing, awkwardly lifting her long dress to maneuver. Slowly, she turns her body, placing her heels on the painted white ledge, her back to the railing, facing the darkness. Sixty feet below, the massive propellers churn the Atlantic into white foam, leaving a ghostly wake stretching into the horizon.

From a low angle, we see Rose standing like an inverted figurehead. Below her, the enormous letters spelling "TITANIC" loom. She leans forward, stretching out her arms, hypnotized by the vortex beneath her. Her dress and hair flutter in the ship's movement-induced wind.

Billy watched, a mix of anxiety and indifference etched on his face. They repeated each take. He finally relaxed, letting his body flow with his mind, focusing solely on what lay ahead, shifting with every thought.

ROSE

-Don't you dare tell me what I will or won't do. You don't know me.-

She removes her coat, catching her breath as she notices the girl who was the light of his eyes. Confidence and concern flickered in his posture, but he recomposed himself in a minute. Yet he was utterly lost, though he played along, creating a warm ambiance.

JACK

-Don't come any closer!-

JACK

-Take my hand. I'll pull you back over.-

He extended his hand, taking a step forward. But she refused. After a brief hesitation, he persisted, though she remained fearful.

JACK

-I'm a good swimmer.-

Jack saw the tear streaks on her cheeks under the faint glow of the stern lights.

ROSE

-You'd already be dead. Come on, take my hand.-

Rose was now confused. She couldn't see him clearly through her tears and wiped them away with one hand, nearly losing her balance.

ROSE

-No! Stay where you are. I mean it.-

ROSE

-You're distracting me. Go away.-

JACK

-I can't. I'm involved now. If you let go, I'll have to jump in after you.-

The only sound above the roar of the water below was the fluttering and snapping of the giant Union Jack above her.

-I'll let go.-

She began to undo her left shoe.

JACK

-No, you won't.-

JACK

-Don't do it.

ROSE

-Don't be ridiculous. They'll kill you. -

She turns her head at the sound of his voice. It takes her a moment to focus.

He shrugs off his jacket.

JACK

-I'm a decent swimmer. -

ROSE

-The fall alone would kill you.

She glances down. The reality of what she's doing begins to sink in.

JACK

-It'd hurt, I'm not saying it wouldn't. But honestly, what worries me a lot more is how cold the water is.-

ROSE

-How cold is it?-

JACK

-Freezing. Maybe a couple of degrees above.-

Billy starts untying his left shoe, keeping his eyes on the girl.

JACK

-Ever been to Wisconsin?-

ROSE

(perplexed)

(The first time they're not cut here—it's a small victory. Encouraged, they press on, keeping their composure.)

JACK

-Well, they've got some of the coldest winters around. I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls. Once, when I was a kid, my dad and I went ice fishing on Lake Wissota... Ice fishing is when you cut a hole in the—

ROSE

-I know what ice fishing is!-

JACK

-Sorry. You just... seem like an indoor girl. Anyway, I went through some thin ice, and let me tell you, water that cold—like the water down there—it hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think—at least not about anything but the pain.-

(He removes his other shoe.)

That's why I'm not exactly looking forward to jumping in after you. But, like I said, I don't see a better option. I guess I'm hoping you'll step back over the railing and save me the trouble.

ROSE

-You're crazy.-

JACK

-That's what everybody says. With all due respect, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship.-

He smiles.

His smile is charming. She notices it, intrigued despite herself.

JACK

-Come on, you don't want to do this. Give me your hand.-

Rose stares at this lunatic for a long moment. She looks into his eyes, and suddenly, somehow, they seem to fill her entire universe. They're the eyes of someone who sees more than just what's in front of him. It's almost magical.

ROSE

-Alright.-

She releases one hand from the railing and reaches out to him. He extends his hand, grasping hers firmly.

JACK

-I'm Jack Dawson.-

ROSE

(with a trembling voice)

-Pleased to meet you, Mr. Dawson.-

Rose begins to turn, now that she's decided to live, but the height terrifies her. Vertigo takes over as she shifts position, turning back toward the ship. As she starts to climb, her dress gets in the way, and one foot slips off the edge of the deck. She lets out a sharp scream. Jack, holding onto her hand, is yanked hard against the railing. Rose barely manages to grab a lower rail with her free hand.

The Bosun, Rowe, standing on the docking bridge, hears the scream and heads for the stairs.

ROSE

-Help! Help!-

JACK

-I've got you. I won't let go.-

Jack grips her hand tightly while bracing himself against the railing with his other hand. Rose tries to find some sort of foothold against the smooth hull. Jack struggles to lift her over the railing. She can't keep her balance in her dress and evening shoes, and she slips backward. Rose screams again.

Jack, awkwardly grabbing Rose with whatever leverage he can manage as she flails, pulls her over the railing. They tumble onto the deck together in a heap, twisting so that Jack ends up slightly on top of her.

Rowe slides down the stairs from the docking bridge like it's a fire drill and charges through the hatchway.

ROWE

-What's all this?-

Rowe rushes over, pulling Jack off Rose, revealing her disheveled and sobbing on the deck. Her dress is torn, the hem pushed up above her knees, exposing a ripped stocking. He looks at Jack—a scruffy third-class passenger without a jacket—and the distraught first-class lady and begins to draw his conclusions Two sailors hustle across the deck to join them.

ROWE (to Jack)

-Here, you—stay right where you are! (To the sailors) Get the Master at Arms.-

EXT. HATCH COVER DECK – NIGHT

A few minutes later, Jack is restrained by the burly MASTER AT ARMS, the closest thing to a police officer on board. He's handcuffing Jack. Cal stands right in front of him, furious. He's run out with Lovejoy and another man, none of them dressed for the cold night air over their formal evening wear. The other man is COLONEL ARCHIBALD GRACIE, a mustachioed blowhard still holding his brandy glass. He offers it to Rose, who sits huddled and crying on a nearby bench, but she waves it away. Cal, however, is fixated on Jack. He grabs him by the lapels.

CAL

-What did you do to her? How dare you lay hands on my fiancée? Look at me, you filthy rat! What were you thinking? -

ROSE

-¡Cal, stop! It was an accident. -

CAL

-An accident? -

ROSE

-It was... stupid. I was leaning over, and I slipped. -

Rose glances at Jack, making eye contact.

ROSE

-I leaned out too far. I was trying to see the... uh... propellers. And I slipped. I would've fallen overboard, but Mr. Dawson here saved me. He almost went over himself. -

CAL

-You wanted to see the propellers?-

GRACIE (shaking his head)

-Women and machinery don't mix.-

MASTER AT ARMS (to Jack)

-Is that what happened?-

Rose pleads with her eyes for Jack not to tell the truth.

JACK

-Uh-huh. That's pretty much it.-

He glances at Rose one more time. Now they share a secret.

COLONEL GRACIE

-Well! Then the boy's a hero. Good for you, son! Well done! (To Cal, clapping him on the shoulder) So, all's well. Let's get back to our brandy, eh?-

Jack's handcuffs are removed. Cal helps Rose to her feet and ushers her away.

CAL (rubbing his arms)

-Let's get you inside. It's freezing.-

CUT.

The actors sighed, completely spent from the raw intensity of the scene, but the real test was yet to come—watching the nearly seven-minute take in one go.

-It was good,- murmured the cinematographer.

It was a solid effort, one that had truly captured the essence of the moment.

Kate stood there, unable to hide her enormous smile.

-We still have others to shoot; don't smile so much, - Billy whispered to her.

...