Re: [Arborlon: Misha/Newt]
"Of course," was Newt's polite-as-any-Englishman response, a smile on his face. The boy, he knew, was nearer Patrick's age, but he felt quite a bit younger. Misha, as far as Newt knew, was a helpful sort. He, Newt thought, was kind. Even being removed from Repose hadn't endeared Newt to people as a whole. He was still quite shy and he wasn't making firm eye contact even now. But, he did like Misha, and it was easy to feel a bit maternal toward him. Newt sipped his own tea once it approached him, before waving it off so it might get a bit of cream and sugar into it.
His curiosity was piqued, of course. It often was. But, he wasn't made to wait long before having an answer to the 'why?' that stood broad as an elephant in the space. "Ah." Adrian. Yes. Newt picked up his teacup once more, now that it was back. He wiped unknowingly at the black ink on his nose with his other hand. Sue. Even better.—He glanced at Misha through a wilderness of red fringe. "What has he done?" Somehow, Newt refrained from tacking on a 'now,' and Misha's delivery of fact distracted him. Newt smiled again. "Oh, yes." He released his teacup and moved around to fetch up the notebook, which'd now made itself obvious amid a pile of books near Newt's shed rucksack. He thumbed through some pages and passed it to Misha, in case he'd like to peruse through the creatures described therein.