Newt Scamander Preferences

When Newt Goes To Jail.

A/N: For this chapter, may I suggest listening to Halsey's Castle? I do think that it matches the tone of today's update rather well.

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One. Two. Three. Four. Four walls.

Green moss climbing up the corner to the left. Black spores peppering the right.

One cell door. Barred. No exit.

One window, behind him. Bars across the glass. Even without the barrier, too small to crawl through.

An rusty, iron bed. Currently occupied by an infuriated Mr Scamander.

Hands resting on knees, tapping a unrhythmic beat. Trying to distract himself from the dilapidation and stench of decay.

Hair mused, fingers had run through it several times to calm nerves. No longer nervous. Only angry.

Clothing torn in places. A fight? Faded lipstick marks suggest other activities.

Stormy eyes focused on the lock. Warded. No wandless magic needed.

Trapped.

Alone. Not to be disturbed until he returns. The one who brought him here.

Him? The male. The one at his home. Black and silver hair. Blue eyes. Angry blue eyes. Snarling lips. Displeasure. He knows. He knows what Newt did. Hence the disgusting cell.

Won't be back until morning. Nine latest. Currently escorting someone to new premises.

Is it her? Where's he taking her? Is she alright? Scared? She must be scared. This isn't her fault. It's his. All his fault.

He wasn't careful. Reckless. He got caught. He should have been careful. He wasn't. Now everything was a mess. A huge mess. It was his fault. Only his.

Now he was in a cell, with only her on his mind. His Leta.