goldsteins | hesitating won't make things happen

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hesitating won't make things happen

Tina remained few happy things about the later years of her childhood. The times before her parents had died were held precious and were her greatest, happiest memories. Few other memories could contend with the short time she'd had with her family. She'd stopped thinking about what she wanted the day they had died and lived, in short, to make things the best she could for herself and her sister (but of course, even in their adult lives they still had very little money).

She'd never expected good things out of her life. If there was anything good she had to work for it, and even then her own morality caused far too many hurdles. She never expected to be happy or have kindnesses happen, though she was quick to give such kindness to others.

The truth was she had so few expectations out of anything it was hard to believe in anything.

Which is why the dream she was stirring from was so profoundly odd. Newt was in it, as were many others, and for some reason she was a child. It felt too realistic, but hazy now as a dream should. There was happiness in those moments, something that had sent a pang through her then eleven-year-old heart (what did she do to deserve such things?). Hazy though it was there was a sense of longing, of a childhood she could never actually have.

Tina doesn't dream often, so to do so now was startling-- Or it would be. For at that precise moment she was only groggily aware that she should be waking up. She'd never been much of a morning person and Queenie would often claim to have torn her out of bed and pushing a cup of coffee in her hands to get her up. An accurate assessment, she supposed, given by the time she really slept she was dead on her feet.

Her brain told her it was time to wake up, but her body was content in its rest. The warmth of something (someone?) else enticing her to curl up closer to them. She'd shared a bed with Queenie plenty of times before, even recently when the boys had their apartment, it's not odd. Just notably, her hazy mind thought, not as soft as her sister. She wanted to sleep, though, her brain supplied. Just a little longer, it was such a nice dream afterall.

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Newt allowed Tina to climb into his (not often used) bed with him, noticing how lonely and nervously sad she seemed without having the comfort of her younger sister to soothe her. He waited until she feel asleep, making sure to tuck her in, before climbing into bed himself. When she cuddles up to him as a young child, he wraps his arms around her, to provide additional comfort and warmth.

He falls asleep soon after, tired but content from the day's activities with Tina. The pillow beneath him feels like a miracle.

He doesn't notice that anything has changed until he stirs, pressed against a warm, supple body that is very much not that of a child. His lips and nose are both curled against the pale skin of her neck; he breathes her in as easily as he would air. He pulls her closer as his mind begins to emerge from the fog of sleep. Only when he recognizes the dark of her hair and the way her pajamas no longer entirely fit her does realization hit him.

"Ah!"

With a startled yelp, Newt flails and falls off of the bed.

If there was one way to wake her up in full Auror-mode it was screaming. The haze that was sleep disappeared for the adrenaline that was preparing for a fight. The woman went instinctively for her wand but found it was on an unfamiliar bedside table.

The least of her worries at that particular moment, she snatched it up and pulled herself up. She'd later be thankful that what the much younger her decided to wear was a longer nightgown, though it felt tighter around her chest-- Something she doesn't pay mind to at the moment.

Dark eyes flickered around the room. Unfamiliar yet, but no one was in there. Save for a very startled looking man now sprawled on the floor.

"Newt?" Her response is perplexed-- both by him screaming and the situation at hand. She was used to react on the fly at a scene, so the situation itself didn't escape her. But perhaps she merely doesn't care so much about it than he did. "What's going on?"

He hits the carpeted floor hard, jolting him even further from sleep. He blinks, trying to clear the stars from his eyes, as Tina, very much grown up and no longer eleven years old, stares down at him from where they were just cuddling on his bed.

"Tina?" He says, voice groggy and slow. He raises himself on his elbows, ignoring the throbbing pain on the back of his head for the time being. Probably just another bruise to add to his collection, he privately thinks.

"How much...how much do you remember of the past week?"

She frowned at him, mind still as alert as it was groggy. It was clear they were in bed together, but that was less alarming than the look Newt was giving to her now. What did she remember of this week?

The last day she remembered was some time ago-- She couldn't say how long ago without a calendar, but the odd feeling of realism for what she thought was a dream still lingered. "It wasn't a dream then," She said uncertainly brows furrowing in recognition.

Then she breathed out and groaned burying herself in her hands. "And you put up with that," she grumbled.

"No," Newt says, watching Tina's face carefully. "Not a dream." He offers her a sheepish smile as he pulls himself off of the floor, wincing a bit at the feeling of a small bump on the back of his head. Ah well, he thinks. Not as large as some of his other bumps have been.

He moves to sit next to her on the bed, leaning in close. With a smile, he presses his lips to the side of her head in a gentle, assuring kiss.

"I promise, you were entirely adorable," he tells her, with just a hint of mischief in his voice.

Her mind still hazy, Tina shook her head into her hands. She wouldn't believe it was more than an absurd dream if newt hadn't said anything. Or the fact her clothes were absurdly tight in comparasion, something she would have to fix soon.

The woman doesn't say anything for a moment-- even when newt sits beside her and surprises her in the gentle act.

"i know better," she insisted with a groan nose scrunched up though she still didn't look at him, "sorrry for putting you in such trouble again."

Tina's nose scrunches and Newt thinks his heart might actually leap right out of his chest and into her lap at the sight. He can certainly understand why she would feel embarrassed, but he still wants to assure her that she has no need to feel so; he remembers his own childhood well enough and how much of a handful he had been, after all.

He places an arm around Tina's shoulders, tenderly and tentatively, as he continues to stay by her side.

"I promise you, it's alright," he tells her. "I was much worse as a child, believe you me."

"Now that," Tina started with a snort, "I believe."

Newt was trouble as an adult and Tina could only imagine the headaches he'd given his parents. She'd gotten into her own fair bit of trouble, but it was always in the defense of someone-- Not likely bringing home dangerous creatures because they needed rescuing.

The woman breathed out, steadying herself as she loosened the grip on her wand and tore her gaze towards Newt. It was a wonder, she thought, that he would continue to stand by her even in these moments. She trusted him just as much as she would Queenie, but it was still hard to believe someone stuck around because they wanted to.

Cared for her, even.

"Thank you, Newt," She breathed out, eyes filled with a flickering of wonder. The man before her might be odd, even infuriating at times, but the depths of affection that flooded her chest when around him-- especially now-- was near overwhelming. She couldn't remember a time she cared for someone that much, not in the same way she would for Queenie.

Usually, the woman is willing to let Newt lead on the kissing-- afraid that instigating it herself would make the man too nervous. This morning she waited for no such thing-- the warmth in her chest from the dreams of a brief, happy childhood and that the man wouldn't abandon her lifted her. She leaned forward, one hand placing itself on his forearm in a familiar gestures, and pressed her lips softly against his trying to say without words the blaze burning in her chest.

Tina snorts, and Newt smiles, very much pleased to have amused her so. "If you ever meet my brother or anyone else in my family, they'll be sure to give you all of the very worst of stories," he tells her. He smiles against the side of her hair, breathing in, for a moment, her.

"I was a right little terror," he continues. "Especially with all of the gnomes I attempted to adopt."

And then, Tina's pulling away, looking at him with her brilliant, beautiful eyes; eyes as dark as souls, and he can feel himself as he falls through them. He's spent so long keeping other people out, and here Tina Goldstein is, knocking down any and every barrier he's tried to hold steady around his heart. Just looking at her makes him feel more alive, and so he's already nearly breathless by the time she leans forward and kisses him.

Her lips are so gentle against his own, he nearly melts. The hairs on his arm rise as the shocking heights her kiss allows him to soar to rushes through his veins. He finds himself leaning forward, pulling Tina closer, responding to the unspoken words of her kiss with those of his own.

Of all the things Tina expected it wasn't this. Her life was work and her sister, not romance. Too caught up in her work and of little interest to her male counterparts Tina'd accepted, quite readily, she wasn't cut out for it. Yet, the man before her who had every reason to hate her would care for her so deeply. Save her, even-- It's not something she can easily return, nor is it one she thinks he'd want her to.

For the very same reason she wouldn't want anyone to for her either. She cared deeply, but she never trusted or let anyone in easily. She'd known so long ago, in the Death Chamber, that Newt had already beaten that part of her heart--

--Her heart that was practically screaming in her chest. She was still new and clumsy to such intimacies as kissing, but it doesn't feel like that mattered too much then. Not when they're this close and Newt returned it. Not when her arm passed over his forearm to find his shoulder, shifting to better accomodate the situation.

If she was supposed to be embarrassed or running away she doesn't remember that. For the moment the warmth of being this close to Newt, to feel without words, and know through touch was more than enough to keep her there.

Newt thinks he must still be dreaming. To have Tina Goldstein in his arms, in his bed, even, and to be kissing her like this...well, he feels like he should be just on the cusp of waking up, possibly to wind up on the floor, sprawled out and foolish, as always.

Instead, she shifts in his arms, moving so that they can both be more comfortable. He smiles against her mouth, kissing her slowly and yet with a certain kind of urgency, too. He brings a hand up to brush against her cheek, eventually letting it linger long enough to cradle the smooth skin of her face.

It feels like a miracle to want someone who also wants him back. To have her have been the one to kiss him to begin with is its own kind of magic. He feels as light as a cloud, drifting off to the skies with Tina without a thought of coming back down to Earth.

Somewhere in the back of her mind propriety screamed out. Kissing was more common now in America, when she was from, but she'd suppose most people didn't consider it proper to do as much in a bed (but really, what were they to matter?). She should be sensical Porpentina, but she didn't want to. Not then.

Ill practiced that she was, Tina did have to pull away sooner than the warmth in her wanted. It was enough, though. Her hand on his shoulder remained there, her face only mere centimeters from his that she could feel his breath against her lips. The smile came easily followed by a short burst of laughter.

The sound as delighted as it was amused by the situation. She was still in clothes that fit uncomfortably. They were still in Newt's room, in his bed. And there was still a thrumming sensation in her heart that she just couldn't place. No, no she could.

"Oh," She breathed in, the small sound an external sound of her realization.

By the time that their lips part, Newt feels the same as he does after chasing the Niffler endlessly through streets and out of inappropriate places; he's utterly breathless, his face warm from the exertion of his own erratic heartbeat which he thinks Tina must be able to hear given how loudly it thumps against his chest.

Tina smiles and then she laughs, and Newt barely has the lung capacity to do much more than smile. He's captivated, though; truly and utterly. He can't stop staring, memorizing the way her eyes glint in the dark as she laughs.

The realization that they are currently in his bed and that Tina is wearing a nightgown much too small for her only hits him a moment later.

"Oh," he agrees, letting out a breathless chuckle as he leans forward to press their foreheads together. "Oh indeed."

She could not help but think this is the silliest situation she had ever been in for more reasons than she could count. Yet, the hope that had been perching in her chest since they'd started all of this was flapping its wings. Resilient to even her most self-deprecating thoughts.

Oh he said and she halted, dark eyes turning to look at his-- So close in their current position. She remembered that it wasn't so long ago that the man wouldn't even look her in the eyes. But then that was all of a day, wasn't it? So much shorter than their four months. So much had happened in four months.

And the hope was warm in her chest, beating its wings as if to start up a storm. Fearless at the center of its current.

"I think this is is a sign," She breathed out, gaze averting despite herself, "that I really am falling in love with you, quite." Hope, the thunderbird in her, she cursed them both.

There it is: that word, that one small, potent word with the power to crush kingdoms or lift people up to the stars. It hangs in the air between them, a glittering thing, slow-spinning redemption catching on the air they both inhale and exhale. He feels dizzy, suddenly; like he might fall off the bed again.

His face glows with the heat of how red he turns.

It's inconceivable, almost, how anyone could actually love him. How he could love anyone as much as he loves his creatures.

"I think I'm very much falling too, myself," he agrees quietly, reaching out to take her hand and squeeze it.

She doesn't expect him to respond-- The truth was she had so very few expectations of the man before her. At least when it came to things like this. Neither of them were very good at people, she expected them to be less at words and relationships. Even if both of them were oddly honest and true to what they felt.

It truly was an odd pairing.

She's reminded of that meeting, not all that long ago. When Newt had said as much on the truth serum. It's different now with honest and earnest. She turned her eyes upwards when she felt the weight of his hand-- Drawing a breath before she smiled, a real smile.

The same warmth had her lean in just once more to press soft lips against his, though this time it was as brief as it was soft. Her free hand moving to her hair when she looked briefly away, the smile curling at her lips.

Tina doesn't say anything, and she doesn't have to. Not really. The silence suits them both, perfect and intimate in the wake of such confessions. Newt can't seem to keep himself from smiling, or from running his spare hand through his hair in a flustered manner.

He feels as though someone has hit his heart with Wingardium Leviosa and his lungs with the Jelly-Leg Jinx; he's torn between melting and flying.

And then Tina leans in to kiss him again, warming him even further. He's grinning stupidly by the time she pulls back, reaching out to pull her close so he can rest his head against hers.

She laughed, something easy now in the wake of the morning's activities so far. It's odd, being so close to Newt but doesn't feel wrong. There wasn't anything to say at the moment, nothing more that needed to be and she was content to stay there for a little while longer.

And so she does, but eventually she had to take a breath and pat his arm when she pulled away-- amusement and delight still mixed in her expression. "I should probably get different clothes on now," She admitted, given that while she wasn't well endowed a young child's physique and her own now were different. It felt more exposed like this.

She colored slightly, tucking away her hair before once more reaching for her wand-- This time with the intent to change it to a simple blouse and pants than to get ready to fight.

Newt thinks that he will never tire of listening to Tina's laughter. It's such a lyrical and beautiful sound, like a strong breeze rushing through wind chimes. It makes the woman in his arms light up even more than she already glows, in his eyes.

He grins, a fragile smile that flickers as she pulls away. He would be content to hold her like that for hours.

But she does raise a very good point, he supposes. His gaze, unintentionally, falls to where he can see how her nightgown very much does not suit her newly grown-up body. He flushes deeply, his cheeks turning a deep red, like wine, before he quickly averts his gaze, not wanting to intrude.

"Yes, I can't imagine you're too comfortable right now," he agrees, trying very much not to dwell on the brief glimpse he caught of the way the strained fabric hugged her body.

Tina looked amused despite the way she colored herself. She made quick work of transfiguring the clothing, but it seemed it wasn't quick enough. She'd be more bothered than she was if it wasn't Newt--and she trusted him.

"You can say that," She answered drily, shifting next to him. The fluttering sensation in her chest lingered, truly alight by the situation-- But now that she was waking and clothed Tina's nose wrinkled in thought.

"What's on the plans for today, then?" She questioned, eyes turned once more up at the man.

When he turns to look back at her, his face entirely red, still, to the point where his freckles stand out even more, he finds that she's transfigured her clothes expertly into an outfit more suited to her figure. He doesn't miss the look of amusement on her face, either, and he smiles sheepishly at her in turn.

"Well, I was going to go hiking on the mountain," he says. "See if I can't find something exciting or other to chase. I don't suppose you'd care to come with me?"

The woman brushed her hand through her hair, dark eyes remaining trained on Newt. A dazed sensation still lasted, the lasting surprise of the morning. Her brow raised in response. A hike, was it? She'd never been much for the outdoors, even in her Ilvermorny days. Exploring had seemed nice, but not practical and she had other worries.

"Are you sure it won't be something chasing us?" Tina answered decidedly in jest, though she had to wonder how many times that did in fact happen to Newt.

“I can’t promise it won’t be,” Newt tells her honestly, shrugging. The pair of them running for their lives seems to be a frequent occurrence, both in Darrow and back in New York. If he’s honest, he can’t say he minds that much when he has Tina running by his side.

He grins, having the grace to look a tad sheepish.

“It’s almost spring,” he says. “When everything is just starting to recover from winter. It’s one of my favorite times of year.”

She rolled her eyes for the non-verbal cue of of course. She may have been a thunderbird, but the more adventurous pat of herself she had locked up when she was a child. There were other, greater adventures.

"And your other favorite time of year?" She inquired quickly, "I've never been much of an outdoor person, but it couldn't hurt to see new things."

Right on cue, it seems, Tina rolls her eyes. Well, he can’t blame her for that; truly, it’s a miracle she wants to accompany him anywhere at all, given the danger he unintentionally courts every time he decides to make a venture of his day. He bites back a smile at the sight, already one of his favorite things about Tina.

“I like all times of year, really, but I am especially fond of summer,” he says. “I like the warmth, and the length of days.”

He considers her a moment before asking a question of his own. “And what about you? What is your favorite time of year?”

Tina cocked her head watching the man before her. Newt's idea of living was new to her-- Time in the world, visiting uncharted people and uncharted creatures. It sounded as strange as it did wonderful, but she wasn't entirely certain of her own feelings on it.

"Summer is nice," She answered, agreeably, pausing when he returned the question. It's not one she thought of too much. "Fall, I suppose. There was always a lot of holidays when we were kids. It felt warmer then, sometimes."

Edited 2018-03-25 11:56 (UTC)

He smiles at her answer. Somehow, Tina Goldstein finding the fall as her favorite season makes perfect sense to him, at least, from what he knows and understands of the woman beside him. He can picture, suddenly, her and Queenie, playing together in the leaves on the grounds of Illvermorny on cold, New England fall days. The image warms his heart; that warmth seeps through into his smile.

"Fall is the season for holidays," he notes. "Were you found of Halloween, by any chance?"

It's wonderful, he thinks, getting to know Tina like this. Perhaps these are details people don't care about but Newt does. He finds he wants to find out about how this beautiful, intelligent, and capable woman feels about just about everything in the world. And, never one to be able to suppress his emotions, the yearning shows clearly in his face.

Tina's never cared much to talk about herself. She was a private person and there was always better, more interesting things for them to learn about. The only one who needed to know her was Queenie, and she never had to tell Queenie anything-- Not really. To have someone ask anything about her is odd, but she wasn't dense either. For any relationship to work you had to learn about each other.

She couldn't help how her brow rose immediately at his question followed by a short nod. "We didn't celebrate Halloween until Ilvermorny," She answered, "frankly our school years were always a bit odd." Given that the holidays that were celebrated were Christain based in America their holidays were put to the side.

"Halloween's all right, but nothing special to the other holidays," She amended, "in our tradition fall is the beginning of the year. There's a whole month of holidays filled with good food and hopes for a new year. Yom Kippur was difficult as a child... but it was fun finding round foods to eat and seeing what sukkahs were made in New York."

The woman fidgeted before she shrugged her shoulders. "These days we just eat special foods and do something for the high holidays, though, so a lot of the charm has worn off."

"Oh?" Newt asks, curious. Then he remembers: of course they must have been odd, what with Tina and Queenie living at school most of the year before returning to the orphanage. That must have given them a severe sense of whiplash, or so Newt would imagine.

He listens as she explains her traditions and what she loves about the holidays in the fall. In a way, he thinks, it makes much more sense for the beginning of the year to be in fall instead of the dead of winter; fall still has some life left in it, after all.

"It sounds like you and Queenie managed," he smiles. "Does Queenie like Yom Kippur as much as you do?" There's no judgment in his tone; only gentle curiosity.

"Would you consider celebrating again here in Darrow?"

Tina didn't quite look at him while she spoke. She'd never been one to speak about herself and especially not about such private matters. Usually going "oh, I don't necessarily celebrate that," cause for a certain amount of awkwardness than the inquisitive questions Newt gave her.

Newt's question forced a laugh out of her while she shook her head. "I don't think most people like Yom Kippur," She answered, "it's not a happy holiday, necessarily. Though we both enjoyed Rosh Hashanah and Sukkot. Yom Kippur has a different kind of magic to it, though it's more solemn."

But he wasn't asking about what the holidays meant so she doesn't want to get into it. Instead she tilted her head when he continued and shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't celebrate Chanukah since it just happened at home," She considered, frowning, "and Purim just passed. I'm named after that one, you know..."

She shook her head, still uncertain before adding, "I suppose it depends, but it's not the same by myself." And she was more culturally Jewish than she felt religiously, so it wasn't as if it had some religious impact on her. But growing up in the 20s in a city that (at the time) was half Jewish-- well, Darrow was more than a little odd feeling for a number of reasons.

"Oh, my apologies," Newt says with a bow of his head. "I didn't realize."

He listens as she explains the various holidays she celebrates, smiling as she describes her favorites. His interest peaks, however, when she mentions being named after one of the holidays.

"Purim?" He asks. "You're named after Purim?"

"I imagine not," he observes with a quiet smile. "It must be so hard without Queenie."

"I wouldn't have expected you to," Tina admitted with a shrug. She had already learned that the man before her didn't know that much about her traditions. It was different when you lived in a large population of it, but she doubted England had such a thing for Newt.

Her eyes filled with mirth when he asked before she gave a short nod of her head. "My middle name, anyway," She answered after a moment, "Purim is the celebration of the book of Esther. She was an orphan turned queen who managed to prevent a man from performing a massacre. It's a very emboldening story for young girls when you think about it." And was why so many dressed up as Esther, to begin with.

She frowned in response; Always Queenie, they always came back to her. She bit down into her lower lip before shaking her head resolutely. "It's getting easier," She breathed out quietly before she glanced up at him earnestly "with you." And it was. Coloring despite herself, the woman's shoulders rose and fell once more before she tucked a strand of air away once more-- Eyes never quite settling on any one thing.

"Yes, quite," Newt nods. His smile brightens as Tina explains her name. "I like Esther. It suits you, very much I think. You share her bravery and determination." Perhaps others might find it an odd, old-fashioned name but to Newt, given what Tina's just told him about the name, and the fact that is part of Tina herself, he adores it very much.

Newt blushes again beneath her earnest gaze, thoroughly pleased but also still struggling to accept that anyone could consider him so.

Biting down on his lip briefly, he reaches over to take Tina's hands, squeezing them gently. "It's so much easier with you here with me," he tells her, his voice not quite a whisper. "I'm so glad you're here, Tina."

She colored at Newt's kind words while she gave a shake of her head. Tina had cared very little about herself-- her name was stuffy and old and she wasn't all that great. But it's pointless in that moment to argue with Newt about it-- Nevermind that it would be silly to.

"Well," She considered, casting him a brow, "you told me your name, it was only fair I told you mine. Rather or not I agree if any of it suits me."

Tina was surprised when it was Newt reaching for her-- though she really shouldn't be. Her heart thumped against her chest uncomfortable when she glanced up to smile at him in turn. "I wouldn't say I'm glad anyone is here," She mumbled, not unkindly, "but I am selfishly happy that you are." It's a quiet admission; She rarely wanted or did much for herself, but she was finding herself content with Newt there. She bit down on her lip once more before exhaling.

"Did I ever tell you my middle names, though?" He asks, curious. "Because it seems only fair that I should, now that I know yours."

He watches as she speaks, and from the way his chest tightens and his breath catches in his throat, he thinks he could listen to and watch Tina speak forever. His own heart thumps awkwardly fast in his chest, like someone behind in a race trying desperately to catch up.

"Well, if that makes us selfish, than I am very selfishly glad to have you here with me," he tells her, leaning in close to press a kiss to her lips, gentle and quiet as seems to suit the pair of them.

"You did," She supplied with a wry grin, "in our recent re-introduction." Darrow had seen fit to return her mentally at eleven for the duration, but though it felt like a hazy dream there was quite a bit she remembered from the experience.

It was selfish, truly, taking any delight from him being here. He should be in England publishing his book. Instead he'd been there for longer than herself, it's not a thought she likes to think about and it's one he quickly wipes away all the same.

Tina sucked in a breath in minute surprise. Newt seemed to like kissing. Not that she minded, she was finding she was quite enjoying it after the first mishap. Responding in kind beforee she beared a grin, dark eyes amused. "Well, then," She agreed quietly.

"...Oh, yes," Newt remembers now, flushing at the memory. The corners of his lips twitch up, both embarrassed and amused all at once. "Right. I do recall telling you I have the middle name of a dog."

Newt lacks any shame for delighting in Tina's presence here with him. If he can't be back home, publishing his book and continuing his studies, he's glad, at least, to be stuck in the same place as Tina once again.

"Indeed," he agrees when they part. It feels terribly improper, kissing Tina in his bed. And he finds he likes it all the more for that.

"You did," She agreed mildly, the hint of a laugh in her voice, "and I still believe mine's the more terrible naming convention. At least you chose the nickname of an animal. And, well, you're you." He called himself Newt-- besides an animal name made sense for him. No one wanted to be named after a porcupine.

Propriety was the least of her worries. Though she did concede they should probably move eventually. She smiled at the man before sighing and going after the locket that had been resting with her wand. "You probably need to get to feeding your creatures," She offered hastily.

"Newt also sounds better than 'Newton,'" he points out, smiling himself. "My brother got the elegant name of the family. Theseus." He shakes his head. The theme of one of his middle names, Artemis, and his brother's first name isn't lost on him, nor the irony of those aforementioned names.

"I do," he admits, reluctant though he is to see her move. A thought strikes him, then. "Would you like to come help me feed them?"

"Only if you want to sound like a lizard," She disagreed lightly with a shake of her head, "but either way it hardly matters, does it?" It was her way of saying she disagreed, but she wasn't going to put the focus on it any longer.

She nodded while she placed the necklace around her neck. An anticipated answer, but it's not followed up by an anticipated question. Tina glanced at him, before offering a smile. "I'd like that."

"I suppose I do want to sound like a lizard, all things considered," Newt says with a smile that's only a tad rueful. Mostly knowingly smug, though.

He lights up when she accepts, utterly pleased.

"Excellent," he says, beaming. "I'm sure they'll all be happy to see you. The Occamy still remembers you, you know." Though whether that's due to the Occamy's memory or the fact that Newt speaks to his creatures about Tina all the time is anyone's guess.

"All things considered," She agreed lightly with a roll of her eyes. The woman shook her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear before offering him another smile.

She rose a brow, partly amused at his statement. "Why is it I'm not too sure about that," Tina answered after a moment, the laugh in her voice. The few times she'd been in the case she doubted she left an actual impact on any of the creatures. How could she have? It was the man before her she did, and that was something she was beginning to admit to herself.

"Well, you have little reason to trust me, after all," Newt teases, smiling at her as he does so. "Given that I've dragged you across the length of New York, gotten you arrested and nearly executed, among other things."

"But," he continues, still teasing, "you should still trust me anyway."

He takes a moment to lean over and tuck a stray piece of hair behind Tina's ear, smiling gently at her. "They'll be happy to see you, I promise."

"If I recall correctly," Tina quipped, bow rising in amusement, "those were all things I caused. And if I recall correctly you lied to me about a number of things during that time." His wand permit, the billywigs, the puffeskin...

And, yet, despite the fact he'd no reason to help her Newt had followed her silent plea. Really, if one of them shouldn't trust the other it should be him. She'd been nothing but trouble.

She smiled tentatively at him her breath catching. "If that's what you say," the woman answered amicably, "but I've never been good with animals, magical or no."

"Then I'll just have to teach you," Newt tells her, smiling. "That is, if you would like." He doesn't want to presume what Tina might want; he's presumed enough of other women in the past, and it didn't end well for him.

It's an incredible thing to consider, really. How Tina Goldstein ended up in his bed. And now they're off to tend to his creatures together. The warmth exuding from such a moment catches in his heart like the flame of a candle, illuminating some part of himself he forgot even existed: the part of him hoping to make moments like this part of his life someday.

"The Mooncalves are the easiest," he explains. "They're gentle and will be happy to devour whatever you put in front of them."

It's startling to realize that this isn't uncomfortable. Awkward at first, yes, but there's a sense of home that can't be extinguished around Newt. The same sense that followed since they'd met, really. For as different as they were, they were in as many ways similar. It was easy to be around Newt and she found she didn't mind-- any of it.

Which is part of the reason her brow shoots up when he goes from I will teach you to if you would like. It felt more hesitant than the earlier discussions of his creatures. Her teeth caught on her lower lip and she listened as he continued before deciding.

"Newt," She started, brows pinching as she pressed a hand to his shoulder when she came closer, "I thought I made my opinions clear a while ago." Did she, she wondered? She'd tried anyway, but expressing herself never came easily and with Newt things were always...

...They were always a piece of work so she breathed out and tried again. "Of course I want to learn about them. All of them," She said deliberately, "but I also want to learn about you. Why else do you think I'd agree to something as crazy as joining you in looking for creatures?" She tries for a bit of humor there, having not forgotten she agreed to join him on a hike through the woods after feeding his creatures. Were it anyone else she never would have agreed.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

hesitating won't make things happen

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