adrian's room: adrian m/newt p
[Newt had not yet managed to dress. His pajamas were the striped ones he always wore to sleep. His hair was a red mess, fringe shoved back from forehead. But, he'd washed up somewhat, before the memories began. His hands still smelled like soap, he noticed, somewhat of ink, as he closed his own bedroom door and crossed through Adrian's. His wand was in hand and he lit it immediately, regardless, with a soft,] Lumos. [And he lifted it to see.]