Re: quicklog: adrian/newt - the lake
[Distressed. Was Newt distressed? Perhaps. He felt exhausted, and rather like curling up on his cot, safe in his case. He knew he'd wake to find the buttons of his shirt gone, nicked, and the Niffler stowing them amid Napoleonic Lires and Swiss Rappen, but it sounded wonderfully mundane to him. It sounded free of the complications of this, of Adrian and Sue and Connie and Jack and all of it. The man had, after all, spent most of his life alone. The sudden emergence of something resembling a social life, family, friendships and romances were trying, puzzling, and all-around exhausting. This was no exception. Newt was giving it his best, earnestly so, but now all he was faced with was the back of a very angry, cruel man. (His anger was most certainly justified. It was understandable. The cruelty was not.)
The redheaded man whispered a nearly silent Accio, and Sue's lighter flew to him. It landed in his palm with a chatter of metal on metal. Newt walked toward the familiar form and held out the Muggle device, kept in twitching fingertips. He was rather done rationalizing, to himself and to this man. And he was done defending. Softly, he said:] Here you are. [He passed it off to Sue, if the man would take it.] Do try not to hurt him. You might try leaving him a recorded message or some such, explaining your intentions. Let him see you're someone. Explain to him what you do with the Obscurus. [It was all he had left to suggest. Newt didn't wait for any retort that might be coming. And, as he was told to get his fucking goodbyes in, he a uttered gentle, but firm:] Good luck. [And he Disapparated, leaving Sue to the night and its blackness.]