Re: Log, the B&B: Jack & Newt P
Newt never remembered Jack as shy. He'd been so himself, of course. More than. The term 'troubled' and 'not right in the head' were thrown about when he was small enough for his presence to be discounted, but old enough to know the words weren't nice. He'd not let anyone touch him for a long time, finding the merest contact brought unbearable, searing pain. He'd 'gotten over that,' as their father once said, but not until puberty, at least. Perhaps thirteen. Which was all to say, it was his behavior, especially regarding socialization, that was pathologized in his memory. He didn't remember it being the same for Jack. But, of course, he was a good deal younger than his brother and that likely skewed what and how he saw Jack. When the man now, much younger, peered at Newt in a sort of glance, Newt only noted it, saying nothing. He let Jack peer about to his heart's content as he tended to the kettle.
A smile quirked to twitchy lips. "It's a bit weird," he repeated dryly, "yes." He turned to watch in his normal tangential manner as Jack sat on his bed. And it was a bit weird. Newt'd always looked out for Adrian in school, but even that wasn't entirely fraternal, was it? He'd not had a younger brother. Having one now, that was actually his older brother only made younger was, indeed, a bit weird. But, Jack looked well, all things considered. Newt blinked four times, five and his gaze only skimmed along dangling feet. "It's nice to see you, as well." Awkwardly, he remained next to the kettle as it began to burble.
After he'd asked Jack how he was finding Repose, the redheaded man cocked his head at the response. His eyes moved in a skitter over that smile offered, then away. "Yes. Everyone, I find, does," he said of opinions, turning once more to take the heat off and prepare the cups. He glanced over his shoulder in a shot of barrel-bottom gold. "You don't like it, what with your own shoes to fill, so to speak?" He could imagine that'd be a difficult, if not impossible task. "Change is can be difficult for those who love us to accept. They'll come around, Jack." He doctored the tea according to what he knew of his brother's (eventual?) taste and crossed the little room to hand him his cup.