Lark leaves the door propped open so Martin can walk in easily. There's a puppy with him, Trevor's new one, but Lark is holding her on his lap and letting her chew a rawhide.
Martin heads in, shutting the door behind him. "Where should I plug in?" The kettle in his backpack. Easier to just make it here - partially so he doesn't risk spilling it on himself, partially in case they need more.
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