Imagine Jack desperately searching for Mac in a heavily wooded forest, knowing it was unlikely Mac survived the fall from a moving plane with a broken parachute. Imagine, Jack is running through the woods when his heart leaps right up into his throat. It takes several long seconds for him to realize he heard a Mac-sounding groan and several more seconds to think to search above, in the dense tree branches.
Imagine Jack, feeling useless and alone, straining to listen. Hoping against hope that he wasn’t going crazy. Imagine Jack hearing the faint sound of his own name. Imagine the joy, the relief.
And then, just for your own amusement, imagine Angus MacGyver, roughly 30 feet above the ground, poking his head out from the side of a parachute-turned-hammock. Imagine his grimace turning into a look of “duh! What else am I going to do with a parachute in the middle of the forest?”.
It doesn’t take much imagination to see the shit eating grins on both their faces.