Gideon privately thinks that Paul's father has eaten snacks in bed at least once, but she's also pretty sure that telling Paul that would not be helpful right now. Instead, she leans a little closer towards Paul, wordlessly giving him permission to do the same. That's what all this is about, after all.

The joke isn't half-bad, if a little dry, and Gideon smiles, mostly at the fact that Paul is even trying for humor. That's a good sign. "Aw, man, a gift shop and everything? Damn. Well, tell you what. You can make me a shirt, instead."

Or: don't go back there. Stay here. But Gideon doesn't need to embarrass the both of them like that.

Once she's confident that Paul is settled (as settled as he's going to be, at any rate) she plucks a pair of now well-worn tinted glasses off the nightstand. One side of the frame is slightly bent, as if it was kept in a small space for a long time, but otherwise, they're in good condition and very, very cool.

Gideon had said that Paul's eyes are too bright, and she means it -- how is anyone supposed to get any sleep, with lights like that? But she also thinks he's stressed out, and uncomfortable, and perhaps a little out of his depth. She'd felt that way on the First, sometimes, and these helped.

"Here," says Gideon, opening them up and passing them to Paul. "Try these on."