[ This entire experience, from the start of it up until the very moments they find themselves stealing away on days like this, has been quite a novel one. It had ups, downs, and in-betweens, punctuated by their fumbling to find what they amounted to in this world they were building, and what they were as they grew together. It's true that Percival's work sometimes still causes points of contention between them, but so does Newt's for the other man.
His distrust of Piquery is hardly something that will be easily quelled. It may never fully go away. His trust of Graves overcomes it, and he knows that together they can come up against whatever may yet come their way.
Newt tries not to work too long, but it's easy for him to get caught up in caring for the creatures. To lose hours upon hours inside of his case, and only come back to the world outside of it at hearing his name called out. In this case it is a whisper that brings his attention from a new enclosure he's working on, both magically and on paper. His wand is caught between his teeth, and a sketchbook is balanced on his knee, fingertips covered in lead smudges. There's even a smudge or two on his chin from thought or on his forehead where he'd brushed his curls out of his eyes.
The whisper keeps his attention from being brought back to the pad of paper in his lap, and he shifts, only then realizing how late it has become, He finds a place for it on his work table. littered among the other bits and bobs he has there. He takes his wand out of his mouth, putting it away at his belt for the time being, and begins to tidy up so that he can leave for the night. The creatures will be all right until the morning, when he usually checks on them, but right now he's needed elsewhere by Credence. ]
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His distrust of Piquery is hardly something that will be easily quelled. It may never fully go away. His trust of Graves overcomes it, and he knows that together they can come up against whatever may yet come their way.
Newt tries not to work too long, but it's easy for him to get caught up in caring for the creatures. To lose hours upon hours inside of his case, and only come back to the world outside of it at hearing his name called out. In this case it is a whisper that brings his attention from a new enclosure he's working on, both magically and on paper. His wand is caught between his teeth, and a sketchbook is balanced on his knee, fingertips covered in lead smudges. There's even a smudge or two on his chin from thought or on his forehead where he'd brushed his curls out of his eyes.
The whisper keeps his attention from being brought back to the pad of paper in his lap, and he shifts, only then realizing how late it has become, He finds a place for it on his work table. littered among the other bits and bobs he has there. He takes his wand out of his mouth, putting it away at his belt for the time being, and begins to tidy up so that he can leave for the night. The creatures will be all right until the morning, when he usually checks on them, but right now he's needed elsewhere by Credence. ]