Re: Quicklog, Patrick's cabin: Patrick G/Newt P
[Newt didn't argue with the warning 'dude.' In fact, he said nothing more about it. He rubbed a hand across his bottom lip, then lifted it in an 'all right' gesture, gaze averted. He wouldn't convince Patrick—couldn't, and he'd rather not try. The man would feel what he felt, and whatever that was, Newt had a responsibility to respect it, as Patrick's friend. He'd his own opinions on things, thoughts, feelings, but he kept them to himself when he wasn't asked about the with any directness.—He smiled again, another jittery split of lips.] Go on then. I'm waiting.
[The bit about Sue received a moment of thought from Newt.] Yes, perhaps. It's that, I think, and jealousy. [Thoughtfully, he carried the consideration further.] I'd not thought about his wanting other people as a reflection on me. [Patrick stood after the bit about the buttoning, and he removed himself to the other side of the room. He flopped. His sandals made a smacking noise on wood. Newt looked, just for a moment, before turning his gaze to the food. If he'd any urge to move, he didn't sate it.
He ignored the talk of Chant, finding it hardly mattered. He rubbed chapped lips together, then teased at his fringe; he studied his sandwich.] I've the same feeling at times, about other things. It feels exposing and vulnerable. [Newt leaned forward in his chair, curling in on himself slightly.] Not everyone knows, but I understand that hardly makes a difference. Does it make you feel better to know that no one can tell by looking at you? [They could tell with him.] We should be allowed to come into ourselves, in whatever way, without the commentary, without being consumed by other people, but I'm afraid it's never so easy as that. [Newt glanced to Patrick's knees, then back to the table. A little miserably, he admitted:] If I could take it back, what I said to you in the car, I would. I don't like you knowing it or anyone else. What I feel. I imagine you must feel like that.