Re: Quicklog: Jack & Newt at the B&B
[For all his Britishness—and awkwardness, which were not one in the same, Newt had few qualms with physical contact. Perhaps it was the lack of boundaries creatures with a less structured society exhibited. Perhaps it was that when a cat wanted to be pet, he would get on your lap, and when he was done, he would leave. Newt, who was happy to show affection to those in his care, was not a spontaneous hugger or grabber or any of that, but he didn't resist those who were, not out of the gate. (He had his preferences, of course. Such as, knowing someone as more than an acquaintance before the more invasive actions were initiated.) It was all probably nothing more than another contradiction to name in himself. Still, he was economical in his movement and space, and he was curled in on himself, in spite of feet splayed wide on the floor.
He considered how long he had been working on his book and tipped his head, appraisingly.] Years, you could say. It's to help people understand animals, why we should be concerned with their conservation. Perhaps sparing crickets from the grounds was the beginning. [He smiled with some self-deprecation.] I was approached a year and a half ago. [Apart from being comprised of words, technically, Newt's work had very little overlap with anything of Jack's. His art was not writing, but working with animals and his passion for them, and that would likely be clear to anyone who ever picked up his eventual book.] Quite small, but I'm fine. [ He smiled again to assure Jack he was being honest. Without the travel expenses of airfare and hotel bookings—given portkeys and his suitcase—, Newt generally only spent on food and supplies. He had very little to do with lilies and photography and SoHo at all.
This was all before Jack's admission of his work being nothing but a means to making ends meet. Newt looked at his brother, straight on.] Do you enjoy... what it allows you to do? [He reconsidered.] Or not do...?
[The last question his brother posited was offered with such little fanfare, Newt knew it meant more than was pretended. He glanced at his suitcase. Out of habit, he dipped just a bit to make sure the latches were secure. He blinked.] I was hoping to see the carnival. [He was. Magic hid there with such ease.]