Re: Quicklog, Patrick's cabin: Patrick G/Newt P
Did they know you were from—elsewhere? [After all, as far as Newt knew, Patrick'd said the same words inverse to his elven friends.] I think perhaps 'middle school' is when it matters the least, my dear short-tips. [As for the wandwood—] Well, they say that, it's about the same the ratio of magical to muggle. Not many trees are magic, as not all people are. 'Mundane' doesn't have a value judgment. [Newt smiled at the idea of Patrick as a child listening to the trees with a great deal of concentration upon his face.] Do they talk still? [The smile remained fast on twitching lips, and Newt laughed at the other man's cheekiness.] I've only the one, I'm afraid. You should come with me to the Hall Way. It's your world, too, as a magical being.
[It was a poem. Newt, however, could not've pulled off a skirt. He looked down at his suspenders, at the slight open-throat of pleated shirt.] Could I? [He smiled. He cast the episkey spell—a repairing charm—and he looked to his wand as Patrick did.] My wand? [He handed it to the man.—A wizard could use most other wands. It might resist. It might backfire. But, a magical person with a wand would feel the magic coming from within. Newt's wand, much like its owner, was reasonably stubborn. It offered some resistance to Patrick, if the man attempted anything with it.] You could've rang me. I would've come. Why were you laid up for months? [Pleased with the returning of pinkish color to dark knuckles, Newt patted Patrick's hand lightly, giving only a small scoff at the unapologetic grin.] Can they now? I'd no idea. [He looked up when Patrick sighed.] What? Competition to him? [Newt's hand lifted, almost as if it were to go to Patrick's chin, but—it fell back to his side and he came 'round the table.—With a 'come here' gesture of two thin fingers, Newt called over the potion vial without looking up. Giving up on a dropper, he undid the stopper, tipped some of the tincture onto the pad of his thumb, where it darkened brown and smelling like iodine. Newt stepped between Patrick's thighs, plucked up his hand, and began to massage the potion into Patrick's knuckles. This would need a few minutes to absorb, then it would work on deeper injury.
The ginger man glanced up as he worked. Before doing this, he noted the clearness of Patrick's skin next to the freckles of his own. Right. Brows lifted in unison, disappearing under fringe.] We both know this, do we? I'm glad I've you to inform me. [He sighed as well, holding Patrick's hand still with one of his, as he held the daubed one out for the bottle to offer more ointment on his thumb. Then back to work.] Why insist it at all? [It was perhaps too pointed a question, and Newt knew that. He didn't look up. He finished rubbing in the potion and released Patrick's hand, retreating a few steps.] I'd have sex with him. But I think that's the extent of my interest.