newtralize | The End Of Love

[It's a gloomy day in New York. Not so unusual, given the city, but always a good weather for the magizoologist. He snaps the latches on his suitcase closed as he leaves his dingy apartment and onto the crowded streets of the city. It was windy and chilly and the sun wasn't visible at all. Honestly, it reminded him much of London.

The Brit kept his briefcase in one gloved hand and umbrella tucked under his arm as he wandered.

It had been some years since Newt had abandoned his surname; disowned by his family after his expulsion. He had no interests in whatever ideologies purebloods usually got distracted by nor did he have interest in pursuing some career that his parents considered acceptable. He especially had no interest in an arranged marriage with women whom he would never love. He had learned early on that society was cruel and that he didn't really fit in it at all and that was fine.

Newt had found happiness in magizoology and the creatures that he came across. He was content with living frugally and putting the hard work to get through day by day. It was refreshing versus the suffocating and stifling lifestyle that his family had intended

Though, complications had came up in ways he hadn't expected. Mainly, Newt had never considered the certain dangers of being turned. It had been a rather difficult change in his life that he was still adapting to.

That's why a completely overcast day was perfect. He can wander the city dressed and covered as much as possible, but not worry too much about getting burned. Newt adjusted his hat absentmindedly as he gave a tentative glance up at some of the looming skyscrapers. New York had been quite exciting to wander through. It was his first time in America and he wanted to enjoy it.

A particularly large gust of wind knocks his hat off and Newt has to scramble after it. While the cover from the buildings and clouds were probably good enough, he can't help but be nervous of not having a hat on for extra insurance.] Ah, bugger.

[ After the war, once a few months had passed working as the head of Magical Law Enforcement, a position had opened up in Security. Truthfully, at the time, it was too much to put on his plate, working through all the things he had seen overseas in Europe, but it was also a distraction from it. Percival delved into his work, thankful to not let himself slip entirely into the looped horrors in his mind, and over time things became routine.

So routine, so thoroughly did he carry out his duties at MACUSA that he, rather unintentionally, was put on the fast track for a higher position. It was a challenge, of course—more responsibility than he had currently, certainly more paperwork, but a chance to make change at a higher level. To make New York safer and protect the people in it. The weight of becoming Director of Magical Security clashed heavily at times with the mental scars he still carried, but he wasn’t alone. He had a dear friend to lean on through bad days, and there was always a case that needed his attention after she got him back on his feet.

Though chaotic and stressful the years, again, became routine—go to work, knock out paperwork, walk the streets to monitor and gather evidence, do more paperwork until far too late into the night, sometimes fall asleep at the Woolworth, repeat. There was variation too, of course, or he would have lost his head, and today it finds him.

Percival is following up on a business who’d heard word of smugglers nearby, making sure they hadn’t received threats in the interim of their whistleblowing, and heading back to his office. With the weather as it is he decides to walk back, get some steps in to get him a little more energized.

As he turns the corner on a building the wind nearly steals his breath, steps on something tumbling down the sidewalk and when he doesn’t hear a familiar crunch of a newspaper under his shoe he quickly reels back. The hat keeps rolling away and before it can get into the street he swipes it up, dusting it off with a hand. Percival can hear quick steps coming up from beside him so he turns towards it, holding out the item. ]

Did you lose— [ The question stops dead on his tongue at the sight of the other. Was it...? Percival blinks and takes a half step forward to meet the other half way. ] Your hat, Newt?

Ah, yes. That's my hat. Tha-oh! [Newt stops in front of the other. He must say that it's at least nice to not be out of breath given the fact that he can't, well, breath. That's what he thinks, yet Percival manages to knocks the wind out of him when he realizes who he had stopped in front of.

It had been a very long time since he had last seen Percival, but there's no way he would forget what the other looked like. There were plenty of new details that showed that time has not been the kindness to the man. From the grey hairs to the wrinkles, responsibilities had probably weighed heavy on the American.

And maybe he had housed a crush on the man for awhile, so how could he not recognize them?

Newt hadn't expected to run into the other. Percival was a family friend after all. He didn't think there was any chance to see the other and that Percival would never give him the time of day when Newt was all but worthless.] Perci- uhm...Graves. You're, well, looking- uh- well? [Nailed it.]

Yes, that's my hat. Thank you for that. I would hate to lose it... [Newt isn't exactly the most financially well man. He was content with what he had, but it's obvious that Newt was penny pinching. From his well worn coat to clothes that didn't quite fit him to dirty boots. The hat in Percival's hand might even have a hole that had been patched up.]

[ That was the thing about America—it was a melting pot; the land of second chances. Just because they’ve gone and gotten more civilized doesn’t mean those ideals should die. At least that’s what Percival believes, no matter how cold his job demands him to be.

That something so harsh and unfortunate happened to Newt doesn’t sway those thoughts, family ties be damned. While he was never privy to the details of those circumstances, what he had gathered from Theseus was… shaky at best. It wasn't his place to pry. ]

Please, Percival is fine. [ Besides, apparently his fondness for the Brit had never gone away. ] And thank you.

[ Percival smiles like they haven’t missed a day and offers the other his hat again, this time with a small nod. He hopes he isn’t making him nervous. ] How fortunate, then, that I was the one to step on it. [ There are plenty of those who would take Newt’s hat and make for the hill. ] Which I apologize for, [ The soft laugh tumbles from him.

Looking at the other, though… a few observations couldn’t help getting all tangled together. ] Are you in a rush? I’m feeling peckish and I thought we might catch up—if that’s fine with you.

Percival it is then. [Newt offers a bit of a crooked smile at the other.] There's really no reason to apologize. It's a rather old hat, but I would prefer not to lose it as it's also my only hat. [Though, he could just transfigure something into a hat. He just would hate to lose things belonging to him regardless of the battered state many of his items were in.

He takes the hat from the other, but just nervously fidgets with it.]

Oh! I, uhm, can't. [He didn't have anything pressing in reality, but-] That is. I won't have freetime until the evening. Unfortunately. I do apologize... [He might be trying to avoid having a meal with the other for a few reasons, but he earnestly didn't want to be stuck in a public setting if the need to leave was necessary.

He imagines the other wouldn't have time in the evening, so no harm done.]

All the more reason for it, I’d argue. [ Despite the word, or implying it was possibly was something to argue about, Percival’s tone is still kind and warm. As he watches him fiddle with it as they stand, he wonders if Newt would be interested in someone restoring it, and how to bring it up without it coming across judgmentally superficial. He just knew Newt liked to keep his things and— ]

Oh, [ Is the immediate soft sounded noise that leaves Percival when Newt declines the offer. He shakes his head even, when Newt apologizes. ] No, that’s not a problem at all, I understand, [ There had to be a reason Newt was in New York, right? The man must have been busy. ] Dinner then, [ He proposes instead without missing a beat. ]

I know a quiet little rooftop that has a wonderful selection. [ After the journey Newt’s undoubtedly had, after all their time apart? It was the least he could do. ] My treat, I insist.

I should have been more careful. [Newt kind of shrugs a little as he keeps his gaze down; fingerings fidgeting with the brim of his hat. Newt either fixed things by hand or just relied on magic. The longevity of items only lasted as long as they did because of magic. The items would fall apart otherwise.

For a moment, he thinks he's safe, but then the other offers dinner and-] Oh. Uhm- [He had already said he would be free in the evening. He had no reason to decline the other and he couldn't think of a plausible reason not to agree when he had already implied he was free.]

Of course. [Applesauce.] That sounds wonderful. You really don't have to, so uhm- thank you. I'll, uhm, I'll be happy to meet you there tonight.

Surely the wind had more to do with it. [ He’ll look into it for him, a sort of welcome to New York gift, even if the man would (likely) only be here for a short time. It’s clear Newt had a love for his well-worn things, and Percival knows from experience even magic can only hold things together for so long. But it’s a thought to be expanded on another time. ]

Excellent, [ Is the warm smile as he reaches into his coat and pulls out a blank business card. At least until he starts speaking, where ink flows in time with Percival’s voice. ] Chateau Madrid, 231 West 54th Street. [ Some gold-leaf scrolls out near the corners as he hands it over. ]

There’s no formality, so dress as you like. [ Percival will still be dressed as he is, leaving MACUSA to go there directly. ] What time would you like to meet?

[A twitch of a smile.] Shouldn't someone working for MACUSA avoid doing such a thing while in public? Seems a little risky for an auror to be doing.[He only knew that the other had been pursuing that line of work and had assumed he managed. He can't imagine the other not succeeding.

He takes the card from the other though and tucks it away in one of his many pockets.] Oh. Ah, eight if that isn't a problem. [Even though the sun should be setting earlier during this time of year, he rather be safer than sorry. It would ease his anxiety somewhat at least.]

I'll, uhm, see you then?

What attention could friends making plans draw? [ Percival’s smile grows fonder at the twitch of Newt’s. ] Don’t worry, discretion is apart of my capacity as director. [ No, they weren’t alone, but with the blustering wind the few no-maj’s around had their heads down and tucked into their coat collars. ]

Yes, I’ll see you at eight, [ He confirms with a nod. ] Make sure you come hungry, the food is as good as the view. [ And there wasn’t much that could beat rooftop dining. ] Take care, Newt.

[ Percival wishes there was something that could beat the time between their parting and meeting again, however. There was work, of course. He didn’t skimp on it but in his anticipation for their dinner plans, he only made himself more productive. A double-edged sword.

Leaving MACUSA early, having finished his workload for the day and then some, he heads to the restaurant—where he leaves a short description of Newt to the maître d' for when he arrives. As he waits Percival looks over the menu briefly and the partial skyline of the city, on occasion jotting down thoughts on a notepad. ]

The End Of Love

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