Log: Seven/Hels/Marta
Seven was still tapping out an irregular rhythm with his fingertips against the frame of his new truck's steering wheel as he pulled into the drive, sliding open the side gate with a press of the fob that was clipped to his sun visor. Hormones or not, he couldn't help but feel a little tightness of anxiety in his chest whenever Marta dipped into one of her mood swings and he wasn't there to deal with it in person. Not that he thought she was dealing with anything abnormal in terms of the pregnancy crazies, but - well, the last several months' worth of boning up on parenting blogs and baby forums had tipped him off to some seriously scary stories. So when Marta was freaking, he had to make a deliberate effort not to freak out too.
As he was angling the truck into the attached garage, he heard the soft 'whuff' sound of Rhino's warning bark that meant someone had been allowed through the front gate to approach the door. He figured it was Hels with her delivery of more ice cream and coolers, but that didn't stop him from brushing the heel of his right hand against the gun that was tucked against his ribcage in a shoulder holster as he rounded the corner of the house.
"You're wasting your time. Bean's given her the gift of superhuman smell and also made her selectively deaf. If it's not about food or her zen yoga bullshit, there's a pretty good chance she's not going to hear you." Seven took the stairs up to the front porch two at a time, grinning as he reached out to close his hand around the handle to one of the ice chests. The other went for his keys, but not before he leaned in to rest a familiar hand against Helena's shoulder.