❝ HEY , MISTER . . . ❞ she starts , head lolling to the side so she can gain full appraisal of his face . ❝ no offense , but you look like shit . ❞ the flicker of a smile touches sharon’s lips . anything to bring steve out of his own head , she’ll gladly try . QUINJETS aren’t exactly designed for comfort , but you get used to sleeping on them when you have to . this is first real moment of quiet they’ve had since she grabbed her go bag and boarded . a slender hand extends towards him , fingers twining with his . ❝ you need to rest . . . or at least to pretend for my sanity . ❞ she cannot stifle another smile . she sounds like her mother back in richmond . she turns their hands over in his lap , looking intently at their fingers , as if the touch is the only thing grounding her in the here & now . perhaps it is , for she is so very tired . she does not retract her hand , instead , offers a gentle squeeze which he has no intention of reclaiming .