The past two months had been uncharacteristically pleasant. The seventh floor, along with the McCord household had been running smoothly ever since their little stint with the DOJ. Winter passed and spring had come early. The blooming of the cherry blossoms seemed to be a reward for manning through the last eight months.

"You two are killing me," She breathes, and he can feel a hand just barely brush against his bicep. "Can we—" She stops, bending over, hands on her knees. "—slow down so we're not sprinting?"

Henry stops on the other side of her.

He slows but continues in a jog, but when he reaches the next light post that lines the edge of the sidewalks he turns back and runs a circle around her. "Having trouble keeping up?" He feels a tad bit bad that they weren't being considerate of her pace.

"Yes," she huffs.

"You admitted that quickly," Henry comments as he stretches out his left shoulder.

"You're giving me chest pains," she tells them.

"Too many muffins," He says as he continues in his circle.

"And rocky road midnight scoops," Henry adds.

He stops and shoots her a glare. "You told me you weren't doing that anymore."

She straightens up and steps up to him. "I lied," she admits.

A hand lands on his shoulder as she stretched out her right quad. She grabs ahold of Henry's arm when she switches to the other leg. When her leg drops to the brick she begins to walk forwards at a slow pace.

"So, we're walking?" He asks, following after her.

"Enjoy the streets." She sweeps an arm out in front of her, motioning around. "Enjoy the people." She waves her hand.

"I'm sure the detail loves your way of thinking," Henry mutters. And his eyes jump to the two men who lead in front.

"I'm pretty sure they're used to it," he mumbles.

The Secretary continues a few paces ahead while he and Henry walk behind.

"Did you catch any of the Opening Day yesterday?"

His hands find his hips, and he shakes his head. "Not much of a baseball fan."

"Me either," Henry laughs. "Elizabeth says you're big into the theater." He shoots him a sideways look. "Been down to the Kennedy Center lately?"

"Not recently no," he says. Though he wished he could find the time. Finding tickets to the big Broadway productions was another obstacle also.

"Well, I heard The Book of Mormon was coming over the summer. Elizabeth's been raving about it," He says. "You should take her."

He wonders why Henry wouldn't be interested in seeing it. Missionaries? Seems right up his ally. Then again, he had a hard time imagining the religious scholar sitting through two and a half hours of satirical schoolyard humor.

"She and I, we used to do the opera every so often, but it really isn't my thing."

"I'm sure I can scrounge around and find some tickets somewhere," he jokes. One phone call and one name drop, and he's certain he'd walk away with their choice of a box left, right, center.

A hand is clapped on his upper back. "She'll be ecstatic."

He smiles. A night out actually sounded delightful, though he didn't doubt he'd still be fretting over her. He wonders if this constant worry, not that it was all a bad thing, was what being in a marriage felt like.

"Ma'am."

His head whips when he hears the concerned voice of Frank. He watches as Elizabeth turns the corner when the detail had planned to go straight. The men up front quickly backtrack, following her. He and Henry do the same, though maybe without the vigorous need of keeping their eyes on her.

When they round the building, she's standing in the middle of the brick path, seemingly waiting for the two of them to catch up. "Bagels?" She points to the brightly painted pink and teal building.

"We're doing waffles at home," Henry reminds.

Ah, yes, he'd agreed to be the second cook.

She frowns.

"Just one," she begs. "We can split it," she says, moving closer to the door.

"Elizabeth," Henry warns, giving her a stern look.

And while he's fully enjoying hearing someone else nag her about food, he thinks the DS are getting antsy just standing around— Karl has his eye settled on a group of three hovering on the other side of the street.

And just when he thinks she's going to give in, a bell sounds as a woman steps out of Call Your Mother. She pulls back the paper wrapped around her sandwich and takes a bite.

The Secretary eyes her before glancing to the door, and— "Smoked salmon and cucumbers are healthy," she tells them as she walks backwards to the entrance.

"How does she expect to pay?" He asks.

"Joe carries a card," Henry explains.