75 Godiva Street, Thursday Afternoon

After sending out the email to inform his students that class was most definitely canceled for the day, Hardison managed to pull on a pair of boxers and pad into the kitchen to make some sandwiches. They weren't all fancy, with special onions and homemade aoili or whatever (though there were heirloom tomatoes and dill havarti cheese because Hardison had learned some things over the years, whether he'd admitted it or not), but they were thick and filling. He let Val out into the yard while he prepped, 'accidentally' dropping a shred of turkey on the floor for her to grab on the way out, figuring she might appreciate both the snack and the ability to run around a bit after being housebound more than usual these past two weeks.

She came back in when he whistled, though (possibly because she was hoping for more turkey, but Hardison knew better than to chance it twice), and cheerfully padded along behind him as he carried a platter of sandwiches back to his partners. Sometimes spoiling the ones you loved meant hearty sandwiches on tangy sourdough bread and a puppy to cuddle.

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