Re: Log, the B&B: Jack & Newt P
It didn't take all that long, really—five seconds, ten—to 'get rid of incriminating evidence.' Hardly long enough to be notable. Newt made certain of that. It wasn't anything he hadn't done before, hm? In the company of Muggles and wizards alike. His wand was out of sight by the time he opened the door. And though the room was tidy, that didn't mean it was clear of evidence of Newt and his interests. No. It just meant the myriad books were stacked, horizontally, on the antique dresser, on the floor before it; vertically, upon a chair. A few entirely mundane plants flowered and grew in the watery winter light before the window: basil, rosemary, jasmine, ginger. (The room was actually quite chilly, as the window as cracked just so.) Even this little bit of greenery gave the small space the scent of dirt, of earth turned. There were glass jars here and there containing specimens (all having expired naturally) of various insects. Newt's cupboard was closed, but a white sleeve poked from the door. So, again, tidy didn't necessarily mean lacking in personality or for that matter 'bits of forest.'
Newt gaze sat amber just beyond Jack's cheek as he indirectly took in his brother. And, in all honesty, he thought his brother looked precisely as he had, just with the various softenings of youth. It was not the simple slip and clay of who Jack would become, no. Who he would become was there, staring out of eyes that were as they ever were. Yes, his cheeks were rounder, there were no lines. His hair was fuller and longer, and he was wearing a scarf. But, this was Jack. Newt smiled at his older brother's shoulder and stepped aside fluidly to leave him space to come in. "I've just tidied a bit," he admitted, before he gave a small incline of his head. His fringe flopped. "Of course. Come in."
The tea kettle was electric and kept plugged in for this purpose. When he was alone, Newt simply boiled his water with a simple heating charm. But, he'd gotten an electric one to use when he was visited. He flicked the switch on it and went to the chest of drawers nearby. Cups were kept, for whatever reason, in the upper drawer and he pulled out a pair in all their chipped porcelain glory. There was a miniature refrigerator of the sort university students preferred under a mound of books. Newt bent to fetch milk, then stood upright once more. The bed took up the majority of the room and since the chairs were occupied by more books and ephemera, it was really the only place to sit. "Sit, please," he told Jack with a deferential gesture. He took the milk to the sideboard where the kettle sat and he stood, waiting for the water to boil. With some trepidation, he moved his gaze to his brother's face.
Still, the man, Jack, looked like their father to Newt. He looked away, to his own hands. "So, Jack, how're you finding Repose?"