"What kind of a name is that even." Fantastic Four? Sounds like a cleaning agent. Or an Andorian stripper troupe. No time for that now, whatever it is.

"You do realize I'm from a farm in Iowa, right?" Jim knows what dirt is. He's been made to eat it in more than several bar fights. They should have seen the other guys though (No they shouldn't, if Jim's eating dirt they totally won those fights).

But hey, they're getting up and doing things and that's at least something. Jim hangs back when Clint and Verity go to check out the fridge, quietly heading over to a pile of his stuff and making sure his phaser is tucked safely into his oversized hoodie front pocket next to his spare key.

For self defense, of course. After this morning, Jim's not taking any chances.