Re: [Hall Way: Patrick & Newt]
Newt'd noticed that Patrick's mood seemed quite affable. He'd said his night had been fine, tetchy wizard included, but Newt rather assumed it was a bit deeper than that. Perhaps it was some emotional carry-through from the man he'd been, the man with the boyfriend, Rick. It certainly wasn't his doing, and, going in, they'd both been somewhat high-strung because of the situation that continued even now with Daniel, Destiny, and so on. But, Patrick seemed to be enjoying himself right now, so Newt'd not spend too much time trying to decipher why. He teased and he picked at the seriousness of the younger man, and he brought them to the old cottage in a sliver of the world still saturated with magic.
He, Newt, was just thinking on whether or not there might be cream about when Patrick insisted he'd need to see the bedroom to know whether or not he liked the place. He smiled and, yes, graciously agreed to lead them upstairs. He could've apparated, but it'd be rather amusing to watch Patrick try to fit through the tight spaces, he'd thought. That moth's-weight of Patrick's hand on the small of his back was unexpected, wholly surprising, and enough to make him feel like a schoolgirl with a ridiculous crush once more. Newt felt quite nervous, which was silly considering he'd been living with Patrick for months now. Perhaps it had something to do with the new space and the space being magical.
In the bedroom, he watched Patrick brush against the heavy beams with a glance that refused to perch anywhere for long. He went to the bed and he fell onto it, not really thinking that he'd be followed. But, the bed dipped under new weight and Newt might've pushed himself onto his elbows, if Patrick'd not tousled already-mussed hair. Newt laughed slightly, cheek to one bicep, and he looked up at Patrick in a peek of amber, the slip of a coin from pocket.—Patrick was removing his coat, his scarf. Newt watched them and he gave them a sort of nod. Together, they lifted off of the quilt and found a chair to drape over. Newt himself wasn't ready to move himself as'd be necessary to take off his own coat.
Patrick settled back again, his hand straying, and Newt lifted his cheek into the cradle of a palm. He smiled, a carving of cheekbones evident. He finally managed to look at Patrick, though the gaze wasn't precisely steady—it fluttered away, then back, and Newt kept his chin angled downward, mouth almost obscured by his palm. "Have you decided then?"