Re: Evans & Peel: Jack/Patrick/maybe Newt later.
He was running a bit late to the opening. Newt'd been working on some rearranging of the environments in his case, which took quite a lot of stitching things together (magically), and he'd been distracted past the hour. When he'd looked at the time, he'd finished up what he was doing, took a shower (leaving his hair still damp and a dark red), and he'd quickly put on some clean clothes. He meant to be there for the moment of inauguration, but, though he was late, it wasn't as if an awful amount of time had passed. He'd apparated to an alley not terribly far and he'd hurried the rest of the way.
He'd dithered a moment at the entrance to the bar, not quite sure if he ought go to the rink or not, but, instinct (and habit on Jack's part) told him the bar was the place to start. He ducked inside, into the amber dole of light, and he was happy to see that the place had quite a few people inside. Skimming the space, he found—oh, Patrick. He didn't need to see his face to know it was him, there at the bar with Jack, and Newt watched them a moment from afar. Jack was gesturing at ...—Newt turned to look—a girl, then Patrick was taking a swallow of a beer, and Jack was talking again. In spite of the fact that their meetings, thus far, hadn't gone particularly well, Patrick didn't seem to be in any kind of distress and Jack, Newt could tell, had had enough to drink to look quite nearly relaxed.
That was good then. Newt looked Patrick over as surreptitiously as he could, and he hoped, really, that he'd not be uncomfortable seeing Newt in public. A drink, actually, sounded quite nice, Newt decided, and he made his way to the bar with his gaze down and shifting until he drew up beside/behind his brother. Newt leaned against the bar and rubbed at an eye. (There were far too many people around for him to be comfortable, personally, bu he was here to support Jack.) Patrick would see him, if he was looking, and he gave a smile, before he caught the attention of the bartender and ordered an Old Fashioned on the rocks. Once that was done, and assuming Jack would've recognized his voice by then, he interjected quietly, after his brother finished commenting about anonymity. "Am I interrupting?"