Verity's not girlie-girl enough to hold things up. Jeans and shoes and a finger-combing of her hair is enough. She'll skip the shoes if they want, and can fuss with her hair while they walk. And the yawns can be stifled pretty well behind a hand. Usually, she'd have had coffee by now, but she's not going to ask for this sad space stuff they call coffee.

If Verity notices Jim is falling asleep, she pretends otherwise. The view is magnificent and she could use a little grandeur in her life. But the snoring makes her smile.

"I think he just hates beds," she murmurs to Clint.