Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them...Continued.

18: That's...British

FIRST AND FOREMOST
    **I was about to enter my story into the Wattys, but I couldn't find the option anywhere. I googled it, and apparently the Wattys are already closed from any further entries. However, ya'll can still publicize it, right? I don't want to seem needy, but a good story is nothing without readers; even though I have quite a few already. Shoutout to Newtinalover, partymouse, Finntain and Potterhead2989. Those were just a few, there are some more, and if you want a shoutout, just ask.**
NEWT
     Newt was breathless from the pain and cold from outside; and Tina was breathless from embarrassment. She was antsy, running around, magicking everything to its place in the living room, cracking eggs over a bowl in the kitchen, taking a look at herself in the glass pantry door. Speaking fast and breathlessly, she made breakfast in a hurry, stumbling. It was sort of cute, how flustered she was.
"Are the burns bad?" She asked when she gathered herself somewhat.
"They're all right," Newt lied. "It's most of my back and my left arm. Just...be careful and try not to touch my back too much."
"I won't, I won't, I'm sorry!" She said frantically. "I'll go get dressed. Queenie's still asleep in her room. Just sit anywhere you want. Or stand, or...whatever you want."
"Thank you, Tina," Newt smiled at the floor at her feet. She walked into the other room and closed the door, giving Newt time to get ready himself and settle in a bit. He opened his case as he carefully summoned two copies of his book, and his jar of ointment for later. Sitting at the table, leaning forward so his back wouldn't touch the chair, he dipped his his quill in the inkwell and got ready to write.
"You can sleep in the same room as last time," Tina said as she came out, dressed in a pair of black slacks and a light blue button-up shirt, her hair brushed and parted on one side. She had, of course, regained her composure, and began taking over the bacon and eggs.
"Right, thank you," Newt said quietly. The heater must have been broken; Newt shivered as Tina brought over a couple plates of breakfast and sat them on the table, and a pitcher of juice and a pot of coffee came flying over his head and onto the table, along with glasses and silverware.
"No problem," she said. "You know, I've got to be honest. I wasn't expecting you this soon in the week."
"I left as soon as I left Romania," Newt explained, drawing his coat tighter around him. "I took a train to Southampton, and left from there."
"I take the subway sometimes," Tina said. "It's sort of the same, only there's nothing to see outside but underground brick walls."
"Sounds sort of boring, to be honest," Newt said.
"It is," Tina laughed. "You can take your coat off, you know."
"I'm all right," Newt said, buttoning it. "It's a bit chilly, actually."
She noticed the books. "Is that it?"
"Oh," Newt had forgotten about his book for a second."Yes." He handed it to her, pathetically aware of his fingers brushing hers.
"Thank you," Tina said, running her fingers across the cover. She cracked it open, and began reading it as she ate. It was a comfortable silence; Newt watched her shyly from across the table while he ate his eggs. A smile spread across her face. "You've beaten beasts off with your tea kettle?"
"On occasion," Newt replied.
"That's...British," Tina laughed. Newt smiled half-way tiredly, but the warmth of his burns was getting uncomfortable as they finished eating, although the rest of him was so cold. He was suddenly feeling exhausted, as well.
"Do you mind if I go to the guest room for a moment?" He asked.
"Oh, no. Go ahead," Tina said, looking up. "I'll get the dishes done. Queenie should be up by now, actually..." She shrugged it off, and, setting her wand down, went back to reading as the dishes did themselves.
    When Newt reached the bedroom at the end of the hall, he set his case on the floor, and put the jar of ointment on top on the nightstand, open and ready for use. It smelled of evergreen trees and mint. Newt unbuttoned his shirt, and used magic to get it off. He shivered; it was much colder without a shirt on, and his head was starting to hurt. Newt started the painstaking process of peeling off the bandages. He used magic, of course; but it was still painful. The bandages clung to his skin with dried up ointment, peeling unpleasantly at his burns. It was all Newt could do not to groan in pain as the long strip of fabric peeled slowly from his burned skin. Gripping the bedpost, he tried to stay still; it wasn't even half-way done. The fabric pulled off of a particularly bad burn under his arm, causing Newt to give a strangled cry of agony. His vision spotted, lightheaded, Newt stumbled and tripped oved his case, falling flat on his back onto the floor. He screamed, the pain agonizing, and tried to get up, shivering; but he was still too dizzy and lightheaded. Everything went dark.