sciencesaggressively: (doing science stuff)
Newt is royally screwed. It's not even his fault--maybe a little his fault--he'd just been trying to get to know the area around Dimera better and hey, there's the woods, is he not supposed to want to know what's in the woods? He'd spent more than a few hours writing notes on plants and trees and animal life and examining the soil and okay, yeah, climbing a really cool tree or two. He hadn't even noticed that the sun had started to go down because the trees had provided a shade anyway, hadn't even really kept good track of how far deep into the woods he'd gone. So when he looks at his phone and sees that it's nearly seven then looks around and realizes he has no idea what part of the woods he's in, he freaks out a little.

"Okayyyy, this isn't good." He opens his contacts list and stares at the list of names. Who to call? Not Chuck, he'd never live it down with Chuck. Derek's name is next and hey, now. Werewolf with a keen sense of smell who spends a lot of time in the woods, sounds promising. He hits the dial button and holds the phone to his ear, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "Come on, dude, pick up. If you pick up, I promise I'll never bother you about werewolfy stuff again." A false promise but if that's the deal he needs to make with the universe right now, he'll do it.
sciencesaggressively: (gettin agitated)
To anyone he's passing by on the sidewalk, it might look like Newt's in terrible distress. He's practically running, weaving in and out of the crowd and trying to avoid any sort of bodily contact, and he's pretty much out of breath, so he thinks he should really try to get in shape or something because damn, this is kind of embarrassing. But he can worry about that after he gets to Chuck's--and he hopes Chuck's home because it's possible that Newt might have dialed his number, hung up after the first ring, and took it as an invitation to knock on his door instead.

So here he is, knocking like his life depends on it and it kind of does a little, okay, he thinks it's entirely possible that he's having something like a heart attack right now from a combination of nerves and excitement and nerves.

"Chuck," he shouts, pounding harder on the door and giving zero shits about whether anyone else in this building can hear him. "Chuck, I need your help, open up!"


11/10/13 21:18
sciencesaggressively: (giving me a headache bro)
A jaeger pilot and a leading K-scientist walk into a bar... and Newt doesn't know how this joke ends because he's already three shots and two beers deep with Chuck at a place he's already forgotten the name of, and they're both shouting things at each other, competing to be heard over whatever awful music is playing overhead. It had started out a little rough because what could they possibly have had to talk about other than, well, world destruction. But it turns out that it's not an exhaustive topic.

Newt leans in and pokes Chuck's shoulder, dangerously close to spilling his beer all over himself. "We did it, y'know," he reminds him for the fourth time, except now with a little more of a slur, "we saved th'world. S'like... if you didn't like, die or whatever, and I didn't fuck m'self up with the awesome kaiju drifting, world be prob'ly be, y'know." He slams his free hand onto the bartop. "It'd be gone." He shouts it this time. "I'm a rock star! We saved the world!"

Newt gestures to the bartender for two more shots and hopes that Chuck doesn't have any other plans for the night. He needs this. Newt suspects that maybe they both do, even if it means that he'll be spending tomorrow morning getting intimate with his toilet seat.


sciencesaggressively: (Default)
Dr. Newton Geiszler

March 2017

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