Re: [ER: Newt & Patrick]
Patrick's compliments shouldn't've made any difference to Newt, not now and not with the poor man in this state, but, well, they did. He smiled in a slight flush under constellation of freckles, and he pushed at his fringe nervously. "Thank you." Newt's gaze was obvious then, as it flitted back over Patrick. He felt he should offer a compliment in return, and it'd certainly be earnest, but, then again, perhaps that was rather too... erm, questionable. "That's kind of you," was what he ended up saying. And then he put it from his mind, busying himself with the camera, and, after that, watching Patrick relax, quite visibly. His lips quirked slightly, but a smile didn't quite make an entrance on the stage of freckled lips.
Yes, he was calmer. Patrick was. Calmer, but it was difficult for Newt to know if that was good or bad or neither. He didn't mind Patrick's knee, if Patrick didn't. He didn't lean into it, but he didn't move away from it either. The usage of 'my Newt,' however, did snare his attention. He glanced up, for a lingering look to Patrick, before he gave a small scoff. "No. Well, yes. But, as I've said, it's all right." He sighed. "Right now, darling, you needn't worry yourself with what I am or am not feeling. I'm upset with Adrian, but I suppose it could be said, I would be, wouldn't I?" It wasn't at all tied up in his own feelings, really, but perhaps if he explained it that way, Patrick wouldn't want or need to discuss it. Newt didn't want the younger man to feel he, Newt, found Patrick too unstable or some such, too young, too incapable, of discussing things with him, of course. But, at the same time, he couldn't feel that now was an appropriate time either. So, perhaps he might sell it differently and they could come back to it. That was what he hoped, anyway.
Newt folded his bottom lip under upper rind of teeth and held a moment. He was, by and large, an honest man. And he'd not want to lie to Patrick. But, simultaneously, Patrick looked so very young and so very lost, and would it be a terrible thing to lie to say Adrian wasn't so wrapped up in himself, he'd rather run away after dumping his brother on the police? "Erm." Newt's lips twitched into an uncomfortable smile. "Yes." He reached out to the knee in question and gave it a fraternal pat with long fingers. "Terribly boring, really, but I didn't want to tell you," Newt teased in a skim, but even the limn of a smile fell away like sleep-sand from eye as Patrick talked of his shame.
Fingers picked at the bedding, and Newt watched Patrick look at the plastic about his wrist, before turning his gaze up and over. Newt sighed. The man's natural awkwardness was compounded by his not wanting to make things worse for Patrick and his confusion, because he wrapped a hand about one of Patrick's ankles, before remembering himself and dropping the touch. Newt nudged at his fringe quickly, then turned a little more fully toward Patrick. "Will you tell me, what you were feeling earlier?" Amber gaze dropped, lifted, dropped, lifted, unable to stick. "You were going to come back, to see Rufus. But, darling, it didn't sound like you were going to go visit Arborlon. It sounded as if you were going to do something else." Now Newt looked at Patrick. "It might not feel like it, but I think even telling me you feel ashamed is brave. It's an isolating feeling. I think, perhaps, it even thrives on that."