Re: Quicklog: Jack & Newt at the B&B
[It was all of the above, if you wanted to be pedantic about it, but Jack's yen toward pedantry didn't sweep in and encompass the youngest Penhaligon. It was all of the above and separately and he hadn't noticed it in Newt largely because nobody had spent protracted amounts of time making Newt sit still in Jack's immediate vicinity. Newt's voice was softer than Jack's own, the cadence more clipped and the two together required greater concentration.]
No, I don't see at all, but I don't imagine I'm the intended audience. [This was candid, and Jack stuck the fingers of his left hand into the thick scuff of his hair at the very back of his head and raked, fingernails against scalp. A great many bloody dialects. A niche, a crevasse, whatever it was, Newt had found it. Jack wasn't proud, it wasn't his accomplishment to be proud of, but he felt something. He wasn't stone.]
When's it going to be published, your book? [They hadn't been in physical proximity for decades. Boarding school had taken care of any lingering thought of familial closeness and then career and if Newt had headed into the grounds to dispel the worst of the wittering or the arguments, then he'd climbed the bloody walls. Newt looked perfectly comfortable on the counterpane. As did the cat. Perhaps he could palm the creature off on Newt? A flitter of something that looked less than pleasant crossed Jack's face.]
There's the motel, obviously. But it's appalling. I can ask them to add a room to my tab.