Re: Quicklog: Jack & Newt at the B&B
[Newt was nearly as spindly and sharp-faced as he had been, but, at thirty, he had managed to lose some of his adolescent scrawniness. But, unlike Jack, not much about him had changed, not in fifteen years and not in three. He was hunched a bit in the shoulders, rounded forward, as if he didn't quite want to stand to his full height. But, his nervous lips were quick to smile, especially when he was attempting to lie, and his eyes, like his brother's, had gathered age at the corners. His hid some beneath a veneer of freckles that always seemed to exude youth.—As surprised as he was at his brother enduring the presence of a cat, he was more surprised—and yet, somehow, less, as well—at how much older Jack appeared. Moth-eaten, tired, and rather like the old book he had had pressed between palms moments before it dropped, heavily, onto the coffee table.
Newt blinked thrice, in quick succession, and looked somewhere near Jack's cheek as he spoke.—He was rather more comfortable, now that he knew there was a feline in attendance, and it showed. He circled close and held his hand out from a respectable distance, for the creature to take in his strange scent.] Prudence, he says. [He smiled. A flittered glance toward Jack.] He likes you.