The sound of the doorbell, a deep, thrumming beat like iron bells, snapped Martin back to reality, sending him around for his own clothes, which had been littered over the back of the couch. "Seems so." He replied lightly, finding the money he had counted out before and opening the door, smiling at the usual delivery man and trading the money---tip and all---in exchange for the single large paper bag. "We'll probably see you soon." Martin smiled, and the young man laughed, nodding and waving. Martin lingered for a moment, looking at the walk. It was brown and tan cobblestone, winding down to a tall gate. A well-kept garden was on either side of the walkway, hugging the house.

He stepped back inside, locking the door this time and setting the bag on the coffee table. "We should try to actually cook tomorrow." Martin said with a sly grin, opening the bag and reading the labels.