Deerington Inbox

[newtralize]

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Ah. Er, hello? Oh, uhm. This is rather weird...right! T-This is Newt Scamander. Well, actually, this is a pre recorded message for Newt Scamander. I'm quite busy, so I may have missed you. Do please leave a message and I'll get back to you. Apologies.

Comments

[newtralize]

I don't really like the attention of others. Popularity just sounds stressful. [Constantly scrutinized constantly. He doesn't miss that at all. There was just so much more freedom being someone who blends into the crowd. Newt's disinterest in material things also just meant that he didn't really lose much by losing status.

Even comforts could be found in Third Class.]

I'm not- [Newt goes completely still like he had been petrified. Percival's grip isn't painful. Just firm. He could practically taste salty skin against his tongue, which he's really trying to not do. The last thing he wanted to be was enticed and the other was making that incredibly hard.

Percival can see how Newt's throat moves, like it wants to swallow.

And then Newt starts to shake a little. It's tempting. To bite down and break skin. To taste blood on his tongue. He doesn't though. All he can do is look at the other with pleading and desperate eyes. A slight nod of his head finally.]