(Book Two)
Tegwen Gittins has dodged Death on more occasions that she can count on both hands. Her time in New York City only added to the count but it allowed the woman to heal as she came face to face with an old classmate, Newt Scamander. Old wou...
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Newt tried to keep his mind busy by feeding all of the creatures that were so incredibly glad to see him and didn't speak in a secret code against him, making Tegwen giggle. Unlike a certain bowtruckle that seemed to be conspiring against him. His face was still a dark shade of a red and he couldn't get his hands to become steady, causing him to drop all sorts of things as he worked around his space. He let out a frustrated grunt as he dropped the meat cleaver in his hand, nearly cutting off his own foot that he barely dodged in time.
Wiping at his forehead using the sleeve of his shirt, he let out a tired sigh, trying to figure out why he felt so frazzled in the moment. He figured it was from getting too much sleep earlier. Normally, if he overslept, he felt out of sorts for the rest of the day, which was why he didn't bother to sleep much. He was much better off if his mind was kept occupied.
But he couldn't deny that the sleep he had gotten on the train was some of the best sleep he had ever had the pleasure of enjoying. Despite his legs being cramped and being woken up abruptly, he had felt so relaxed as he drifted off that he couldn't remember a time where he had fallen asleep so easily without it being from pure exhaustion. Then again, no one had ever played with his hair before except for maybe Pickett on the occasion when the bowtruckle was using his hair to climb across shoulders. Of course, the bowtruckle's grip was far from gentle when he messed around with Newt's locks.
Tegwen's touch was soft and he could still feel the hair follicles on the top of his head tingling from the train ride. The way her fingernails had grazed his scalp, just thinking about it caused him to become red in the face even further as he reached down to pick up the meat cleaver. With a small sigh, he decided to push all thoughts to the back of his head and just focus on his work. However, as he glanced up, his eyes met a pair of legs, standing across from him.
As his gaze traveled up, he saw Tegwen standing before him with Pickett resting in her hands as she peered down at him.
"Tw-Twiggy, what are you doing down here?" He asked, feeling the sensation of his throat tighten just by looking at her.
"Pickett wanted to come down here and share his little secrets with you," She told him. "I figured you would be better at understanding what he was trying to say."
The woman extended her arm and allowed Pickett to crawl across and rest on Newt's shoulder. He and Newt exchanged looked as Newt lifted the cleaver off the floor and went to set it down on the cutting board.
Tegwen flinched as he set it down, not really paying attention, only coming centimeters away from hitting his fingers with the blade.
"Swish and flicker, that was close," she muttered under her breath.
"What was that?" Newt asked as he heard her voice utter something out. Tegwen's eyes widened slightly as she looked over at him.
"Uh...I was just saying that I was cold, that's all," she lied as she rubbed her arms.
"You're cold...down here?" He questioned with a bewildered look. It seemed the man was breaking into a sweat and Tegwen found herself not cold at all, but it was the only thing she could come up with on the spot.
