Re: Log, Webster's Vinyl: Daniel W & Newt P
Oh, the other vampire'd never bitten Newt. But, regardless, he wasn't going to mention it. He might've courted danger, but he tried to refrain from coupling with it wildly.
That Daniel looked at him didn't bother Newt. Even with his own gaze askew, he offered a smile in greeting, although it was as worn at the edges as the rest of the man's outfit. The cat, yes—animals'd always been easier for Newt, special. Communicative. Curious. What he couldn't manage with other people, he all but excelled at with creatures of various kinds. And if Mimi was pleased to see him, he was just as pleased to see her. She purred loudly enough that his soft smile broke into a quiet chuckle as he continued to scratch under her chin. "How are we, darling?" He asked her, easily accepting her head-butts and all manner of rubbing against his knuckles as a satisfactory answer. The cling of white fur was hardly noticeable to Newt, who ran about with dirt and everything else stuck to him. More noticeable was Daniel's, erm, low level of undress. It was nothing truly noteworthy, of course. He was disheveled with the same regularity that Newt wore his blue coat. But, well, he noticed.
He shucked the aforementioned coat easily, ready to begin, only slightly surprised when Daniel then plucked the thing from the air. Newt smiled as his head dipped to the side in a slide of fringe. He watched the man inspect the item, then smooth it and drape it. Long fingers undid the topmost button of his button-front and turned down collar, and Newt wasn't looking squarely enough at Daniel to note the eyebrow quirk at the usage of 'darling.' He was being too free with it these days, he knew. He'd have to do something about that. Later.—For now, he only watched as the vampire scraped blackening gaze up from his, Newt's, throat. More surprising than the fetching of the coat was Daniel turning heel then and leading the way to the kitchen.
Newt followed without a moment's hesitation. He'd rather assumed they'd go about it as they had before, with him in the larger chair in the living area, but if the older man was more comfortable in the kitchen today, that was perfectly fine. "Yes," he finally answered, a hushed response with an averted glance and fingers fluttering like nervous butterflies at the ends of his bow-tie. In the kitchen area, he found a chair, if there was one, for him to take and sat back in it, imagining he ought get comfortable if he was to be had here. Thoughtlessly, he undid the second button of his collar. More freckles on more pale skin.