Re: [Hall Way: Patrick & Newt]
Oh, it didn't matter that Patrick was quiet. He often was. Newt was, as well, really, but that happened more when he was working or focused on something. Like this, with Patrick, thoughts came to him and he'd want to share them, say them, but Patrick tended to simply sit. It didn't bother Newt, not unless he was looking for something specific, and he wasn't. Or, he was, but it'd nothing to do with speaking. He was curious about Patrick and his mood, about his night before, about how he felt about the cottage, so, he watched the other man in daring little sweeps of his gaze.
Newt wasn't thinking anything about his own layers, except that he was quite lazy and didn't want to bother with sitting up when Patrick's hand felt nice on his back. The walls were close, white caged in those dark beams. But, there was something far less claustrophobic about magical spaces, Newt would've agreed. Even the wizards who lived as if in rabbit burrows, rooms tunneled through centuries of scrolls and books, there was somehow more breathing room than in a suburban house, detached and alone in a manicured garden of green.
After a moment, Newt propped himself on his elbow and he watched Patrick join him, reclining onto his back, with his arms up and fingers laced behind blond head. Newt leaned in a bit, as they were about side-to-side. Newt's legs were all but foot on the ground, to be honest, long as they were, but he didn't mind particularly. He smiled at Patrick, a quirk of his lips coming out from behind his palm. His amber gaze dropped to himself, to his arm, then down his body, when he was asked if he was warm. "I suppose I am." He pushed himself up right, leaning his weight on his hip as he worked to shed the peacoat and send it along to join Patrick's. His pullover was quite thick, even still, but it was much less than it'd been with the coat.
He settled back onto his side, closer this time, and, if Patrick let him, Newt let his knee drape across the man's open lap, leg dangling. Newt was still on his elbow, so he wasn't wholly spilled on his boyfriend. He inspected the smile he was offered with the soft gold of his curiosity, before he looked up to the ceiling, then the walls. "Are you wondering if it's soundproof, sweetheart? I believe so." Newt's gaze dropped back to Patrick and he smiled sweetly. "I made certain we'd a garden, as well." 'Garden' meaning yard, of course. But, it was greenery in a sprawl for Patrick's sake.