Re: [ER: Newt & Patrick]
Much of Newt was softer than it was meant to be on a man, if Patrick's rigid standards were anything to go by. After all, real men didn't want to kiss other men, and here Newt was. But, it was his own lack of being what he ought've been that'd gotten him into trouble loads of times with loads of people. After all, the fights he'd gotten into, they weren't always about creatures and beasts. Often, they were about him, his stupid bowties, something about how he held himself. But, Patrick didn't need to hear that. Gold gaze trended to skepticism and a upward quirk of brows. "I don't know that I see it," he joked warmly of Patrick's most impressive mane. There wasn't anything wrong at all with Patrick's hair, but that wasn't the point, was it? Newt smiled.
Just as the wink wasn't the point to all that about Newt and his case. It was more likely habit than anything else, but Newt took heart, just slightly, that Patrick was able to find some sense of normalcy, however fleeting, in that room. "I'll show you, because I'd like to see your face when you realize how wrong you are." Newt smiled again, pretending entirely he'd made no accidentally off-color comment about his hands and what he enjoyed doing with them. "I think you'll like it. My case." And he did.
The thought of demons was curious, 'demons' as a linguistic catch-all for 'monsters' was curiouser. Newt didn't catch that Patrick's gaze was tracking in relation to anything he'd said, which was perhaps for the best. "What are they? Or, rather, what do they look like?" Perhaps they were a beast he knew. Newt kept his curiosity better under wraps in the conversation about time. It was obvious that it was difficult for Patrick. He turned Patrick's hand over in his own as he listened. "...She turns into a skeleton?" Had he known that? "That's... well, that's terrifying. Does it get to you... er, still?" Perhaps he shouldn't've asked, but he did. Blue-green gaze strayed to copper hair and Newt self-consciously touched his fringe again. "Oh, according to The Little Mermaid they do. They just liked it, I think." Patrick rubbed his face and Newt bit his bottom lip. "Erm. We'd broken up, but were meeting by the Lake. I was feeding the Giant Squid. Anyway, we're not meant to be on the Grounds at night, but, there was a group of boys. Half a dozen to ten of them, come to torment us, ah, for our proclivities. For our strangeness. Some spells flew, fists and feet, as well. I was hit by something, then Adrian, and he rather exploded. It was the first time I saw the Obscurus. He nearly killed all of the boys. Then, he fled. I didn't talk to him again, not until coming here. Did I never tell you about that?"
Patrick didn't seem too keen to talk about the rescue, so it didn't quite offer the diversion Newt hoped. "I don't know that I know Dyl, save through you. Do you want me to say something to him or anyone? Erm, I can say you've gone on holiday?" Newt tugged Patrick up, and he smiled, just slightly, but Patrick was snared, and that seedling of hope found itself immediately starved of sustenance in the soil of Newt's heart. The older man blinked. "You? No. I meant the others." He sat up from Patrick's knee, to offer him some space without letting go of his hand. "But, I do think you should talk to someone. About what you're feeling. You could... go through the 72-hours and I could do it after, if you think that'd help and it'd stop people from remembering what they'd been told or that you were here. Does that sound horrible?"