Felicity remained on her side, her back turned to both the radio and Gareth. A few moments of music passed before the clatter of various things hitting the table drowned it out.

"Is it that offbrand shit, or is it the real-deal-Chef-Boyardee shit. 'Cause I could go for some Chef Boyardee." She finally rolled herself out of bed and leaned tiredly against the doorframe.

Her hair frizzed with static from the bed and her clothes were all wrapped around her funny, suggesting a hard night's sleep. The bags under her eyes lent to the sight, though one might also contribute it to her "condition." 

She crossed her arms over her chest and watched Gareth do whatever he was doing.