About to get up and comply, eager to fulfill Newt's request, Al stops with his book shut in his lap when the door opens with its usual click of the key turning in the lock, followed by the sound of Kavinsky's steps and rustling fabric and plastic. Kavinsky seems out of breath, flushed pink -- from the cold?

"What happened...? You okay?" On his feet, Al starts for him, throwing a glance back at Newt over his shoulder. "I can help. With the groceries, I mean. Newt wanted tea, anyway."

He holds his hands out for the bags.