Re: Quicklog, Patrick's cabin: Patrick G/Newt P
Ah, well, it's for the best. Or perhaps I bring it out in him. [Newt was without ire or self-pity. It was a statement of potential fact. He'd managed to incur his own father's wrath by doing nothing more than being who he was. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that he annoyed something within Adrian for the same reason.] I've always rather annoyed people. [Which was true.—But Patrick corrected Newt about Connie, and of course Patrick would know better than he would.] Then I stand corrected. [As for Webster, Newt was fairly certain he'd asked this same question before.] I'm glad he left then. Connie seems a much better parent, even if I can't imagine how difficult it must've been for her. [Golden gaze shifted to knuckles, then back to Patrick's face.] Oh. [He'd not expected that.] It's all right. Jack can be rather like him when he's upset, I've found.
[Of course, by now, the number of unanswered questions was great enough that Newt couldn't've articulated them if he'd wanted to.] Well, I don't know, but I know they're out there. You rather like to brush past them. [He put his hands up in the face of the point.] I'm only saying what I remember happening, darling. But, you managed to persuade her, I suppose.
[Then, erm, Newt wasn't thinking about Destiny at all. He was watching Patrick as the blond man came up onto his elbows to look at him. He nearly smiled, rather because he was nervous, but he managed to keep it to a twitch of lips and to hold Patrick's eye the entire time.—He could tell his friend was thinking about something, and he waited with as much patience as he could muster, just there at the table, with his chin on the backs of his hands. One kiss. Would it be enough? Patrick seemed to think it would be, and—well, what could Newt say? He sat up and his gaze dropped, to move across the floor between them as he obviously tried to figure out if he should move or not.—He had to smile at the demand tacked onto the end. His gaze flitted upward, through fringe.] All right. [He pushed his hands over his thighs and he felt quite short of breath.] Now? [Teasingly, he sad:] Erm, you'll want to come away from the bed.