ATLAS || N. SCAMANDER

{seven}

GOLDSTEIN RESIDENCE
BEDROOM

Tina walks in with a tray of cocoa balanced in her arms. She stops awkwardly when she sees Atlas and Newt having a hushed conversation on Newt's bed. Tina took a breath and decided to say nothing about it, "I thought you might like a hot drink?" She hands Jacob his mug, he takes it delightfully. The pair on the bed continues talking as though they hadn't heard Tina walk in. They weren't acknowledging her at all. 

She frustratedly leaves the two mugs on the bedside table. "Hey, Mr. Scamander, Ms. Willow," Jacob tries to loosen the stiff air. "Look, cocoa!" Truth be told, the pair couldn't hear either of them. They had cast each other into the other's mind in an attempt to better understand the other. 

"The toilet's down the hall to the right," Tina says, irritated. "Thanks," Jacob is cut off by Tina leaving. As she shuts the door, Jacob catches a glimpse of Queenie from the other room. "Very much," Jacob finishes where he left off. He jumps when Atlas suddenly jumps off the bed her and Newt were sat on. She grabs Newt's case and he opens it. Atlas grabs her bag and they both disappear into the case. Jacob lets out a small scream of surprise. Atlas watches as Newt sticks his hand back up the case to beckon Jacob into the case. "Come on," Newt says, hand still outside the case. 

NEWT'S CASE

Atlas takes this time to look around. His case was messier than hers, granted that hers was only clean due to the house-elf she paid. Nixie was her name and she absolutely loved socks, especially the ones with a weird print that Atlas could always find in America. Wooden cupboards that hold rope, nets, and collecting jars line the walls and the shelves are crammed with potted plants. Pills and tablets, syringes and vials made up a medicine chest and scattered all over the walls are maps, notes, drawings, and some moving pictures of some magnificent looking creatures. Atlas studies them for a short while before her eyes are drawn to a rather old typewriter, a pile of manuscripts, and a medieval bestiary on a desk.  

A loud thump shakes Atlas from her thoughts. She turns to find Jacob on the floor with many trinkets. She glances at the bite on Jacob's neck and bites her lip, "I have something for that in my bag." She pulls her bag from off her shoulder and opens it. She reaches her arm into it and pulls out a silver bell. She rings it three times and a small pop is heard, "Nixie is here, Ms. Willow." 

Atlas sees Newt giving her a horrified look. Of course he would, he was an advocate for all magical beasts, house-elves included.  "Where's the poultice I made three weeks ago? Is it in the storing chambers? And if it is, could you grab it for me?" Atlas pulls a cotton swab from the inside of her coat as Nixie leaves and reappears with the vial in hand. Atlas swiftly takes it from Nixie's hand and applies it to Jacob's neck, "A Murtlap definitely. You must be particularly susceptible. Don't worry, this should help." 

Jacob gives her a bewildered look but Newt speaks up, "See, you're a muggle. So our physiologies are subtly different." "So if it were one of us that had gotten bitten, we wouldn't be having the same reaction as you," Atlas teases. She throws away the cotton swab but hands the vial back to Nixie. Nixie disappears into the case and Atlas closes it back up, choosing to ignore Newt's stares of disbelief unless he asked her about it. 

"You have a house-elf?" Well, he works fast. "Yes I do, but she's paid and she loves socks," Atlas shut him down quickly. "What I've put on your neck should help with the sweating," Atlas directs at Jacob who focuses intently on the pair. Newt hands him some pills, "And those should sort the twitch." Jacob looks at the pills warily before throwing them back. 

Atlas' eyes follow Newt as he pulls off his waistcoat and undoes his bowtie. He lowers his braces and picks up a meat cleaver and hacks chunks of meat off a carcass. He tosses them into a nearby bucket and hands Jacob the bucket, "Take that." Jacob gives the bucket a look of disgust and Atlas giggles. Either Newt doesn't notice or doesn't care, but all his attention is now on the Swooping Evil in his hands. Atlas has been wanting to experiment with one for so long despite her father. She questions herself, Would Newt ever let her? 

"What you go there?" Jacob asks, curiosity taking over his face. "Well, this - the locals call the 'Swooping Evil' - not the friendliest of names. It's quite an agile fellow," Newt explains, flicking it and letting it elegantly dangle from his finger. "I've been studying him. And I'm pretty sure his venom could be useful if properly diluted." 

"To remove bad memories," Atlas speaks up. "But there's only so much the venom can do and so little that it can do for you once you realize what you want done." Her face hardens, "That there's never enough venom for what you need to do."