sciencesaggressively | (no subject)

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newt scamander

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Newt's been busy as hell lately, between working on his regular research project at the lab and the drug Lincoln had brought to him a couple weeks ago. He's managed to figure out what compounds make up the drug, thinks he can even replicate it in the next few days if he wants, though Lincoln had said that's not what he wants out of this. Still, Newt's the one tasked with handling the damn thing and his curiosity so often outweighs anything else.

The drug is supposed to make people aggressive, that's what Lincoln had said, but maybe Newt can just... fiddle with it. Maybe he can turn it into a drug that can enhance strength without the violent side effects, it's possible, if he works at it long enough.

Either way, Newt decides he needs a goddamn break so he leaves the lab to head for the nearest cafe for some caffeine he probably doesn't need but is definitely going to drink anyway. The line isn't too long, to his relief, and he rolls up his sleeves as he steps behind a redhead who looks kind of familiar from the back. Mostly because it looks like Marius's head.

"Hey, buddy!" Newt exclaims, clapping a hand down on his friend's shoulder, though he quickly pulls it away once he realizes that it's actually not Marius he's totally just violated. Well, it is, but it isn't. Newt's pretty sure it's Other Newt but hell, can anyone ever really tell in this city? "Oh, shit, sorry. Thought you were someone else. But we've met, right? New Year's Eve, we fought bats together? You're the other Newt. Which is going to sound really weird if you're like, another guy with the same face."

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Newt's standing in line, considering the various options of pastries on the menu, and a hot drink to go with said pastries, of course, when he feels a hand on his shoulder, and a familar voice calling out to him.

He turns, almost starts, really, a bit rattled out of his thoughts by the touch and the sound. But when he finds that he is facing Newt, he brightens considerably, pleased to run into him again.

"It happens," he answers wryly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He's gotten rather used to being mistaken for someone else by now. "But yes, we've met. New Year's. It is I, other Newt."

"Fancy running into the other person with my name again," he says. "How have you been, since that night?"

It's not like Newt hasn't heard a mess of accents in his time. Pentecost had probably had the most distinguished one of them all.

But it's still pretty sweet hearing his own name said like that. It is I, other Newt. Fuckin' A, man.

"It's a small city," Newt tells him, grinning. It's not exactly true because sometimes Darrow actually seems to expand, like when Kagura had randomly popped up, but then again, he also sees way more of people he always assumes he'd only meet in passing. He doesn't mind. After years of locking himself away in the lab with Hermann at the 'Dome, it'd taken some getting used to, but Newt's pretty confident saying he's never been more social in his life, even while at school. He likes to talk, and people listen to him here. It's everything he could possibly want out of life.

"And I'm doin' good, man, no bitch ass bats have come after me again. How about you?"

This Newt seems to possess a tangible energy each time Newt runs into him. It is all sorts of delightful, and he's glad to have had the chance to bump into him again.

"You're quite right," Newt says, smiling still himself. "At least, it feels like a small city, with the way people seem to run into each other so often. Especially when they share a name." He manages a joking wink and thinks Jacob might be quite proud of him for displaying something of a sense of humor. But that only leads to more thoughts of Jacob, which tend to prick like thorns, as Newt misses him terribly.

"I'm good myself," he says. "I still would like to study one of these 'bitch ass bats,' as you call them, for myself. But I keep myself busy, anyways. What are you having?" He offers, gesturing to the menu. "I figure the polite thing to do is to buy the person who shares my name a drink."

"Bitch ass bats" sounds better coming out of Other Newt's mouth, Newt's not above admitting that. He makes a mental note to come up with more phrases that would sound way more awesome with a British accent so he can bust them out later, mostly for his own amusement. Maybe they can get Marius involved and get a French version, too, Kate would probably get a kick out of that.

"Doesn't that mean I should also be buying you a drink?" Newt points out. "Except we could be here going back and forth about it all day so I'm going to let you buy this time, for the sake of saving us both some valuable time. I'll get the next one. Just a basic latte for me, thanks."

He slips his hands in his pockets, stepping forward in line and bouncing on his heels, growing impatient with having to wait. "So keeping busy, you said, that's cool. What kind of busy?"

"Sounds like a proper plan," Newt says, smiling at how neatly Newt works things out in regard to buying drinks. Newt orders for the both of them, Newt's basic latte, and one of the fancy coffee drinks he's come to grow fond of since arriving in Darrow. Deciding that, perhaps, a snack would go well with drinks, he orders them a plate of biscuits as well. He moves off to the side to wait for their order.

"Well, I study my creatures of course," he says, before it occurs to him that he doesn't think he's told Newt about the case. He'll have to fix that, and he'll certainly have to take the other man down there one day. He thinks he would certainly appreciate the creatures. "Chase after the Niffler when he gets out. That sort of thing."

"And how about yourself?" He asks, curious as to how this Newt spends his time.

If he's honest, Newt usually only asks small talk stuff like this to be polite. That's one thing that Darrow has changed about him, sometimes he actually goes out of his way to be polite. It's not all the time, but Other Newt is cool, so it's fine. His ears perk up, though, when Other Newt mentions studying creatures because what the hell? That'd totally been his job back in Hong Kong, and he's never really figured it as a real option here in Darrow. This place is weird, but it's not kaiju weird, unless Other Newt has some magnificent secret Newt needs to nose is way in on.

"Creatures?" he asks, not bothering to hide his curiosity. "Niffler? Dude, I mean, I do good stuff at the lab and all but I need to hear more about your shit. You got some time to spare, sit down with me once we've got our coffees?"

"Of course," Newt says, smiling, thoroughly pleased by Newt's reaction to his profession. He had a hunch that this Muggle scientist who shares his name might appreciate his creatures. "I would be delighted to."

Their order doesn't take long; one of the people behind the counter brings their tray, laden with drinks and biscuits both. Newt takes it and nods for Newt to follow him over to an unoccupied table near the window.

"I'm a magizoologist, back home," he explains, handing Newt his drink and taking his own. He grabs a biscuit, as well. "I study all sorts of magical creatures. I was trying to educate my fellow witches and wizards about them, as it were."

A magizoo-fucking-ologist, what the actual shit? That's the second coolest thing Newt's ever heard of, the first being his own job at the 'Dome, obviously. He knows Derek has that weird little puffball pet, other have the occasional magic something or other, and his wife had dated a fucking wizard once upon a time.

But none of them had been experts, which makes Other Newt superior to them all.

"Dude, that is seriously awesome." He pauses, rolls up his sleeves to hold out his arms so Other Newt can see his tattoos. "I studied these guys back where I came from. I mean, there was like, a thousand times this size but still. Two thousand tons and unlike anything you've ever seen before, man, it was crazy cool. And like, super destructive or whatever, but I took care of that." It'd taken him ten years but never mind that point. "You said something about a Niffler earlier, what's a Niffler? Can I see the Niffler? I want to see the Niffler."

"Merlin," Newt breathes as Newt shows him his tattoos, beautiful with intricate details. They remind him of dragons, the creatures on his arms. Not any one breed in particular; more like a conglomeration of various aspects of the different breeds found throughout the world. "Those are magnificent. You studied these creatures?"

He is thoroughly impressed. And delighted. Anyone who studies beasts such as the ones Newt has shown him is well worth preserving as a good friend. Newt finds himself practically beaming.

At the mention of the Niffler, he chuckles, shaking his head a bit. "You can," he tells him. "But I must first advise you to hide anything shiny or of value that you own. The Niffler is a bit of a thief." Which is definitely an understatement, but Newt does so have a way with those, he doesn't pay this one any particular mind.

"They're called kaijus," Newt explains, "and they were my whole frickin' live for like, a whole decade. They weren't so pretty in person, though. Destroyed cities, killed a lot of people."

He thinks of Chuck, of how different their opinions are on the kaiju. Sometimes, Newt thinks Chuck wants to punch his teeth out for still being so fascinated by them, for permanently inking their images onto his body. A lot of people had felt that way, he knows, in and out of the 'Dome. What they'd failed to understand is that his tattoos are less of a shrine, more of a reminder of what he'd dedicated his life to for so long. No matter which way he spins it, the kaiju had existed for almost a third of his lifetime, he'd lived and breathed them. There's no ignoring that, or the fact that somewhere in the back of his head, Newt suspects there might still be a lingering connection because of the Drift.

"But uh, yeah, they were pretty awesome, just biologically. Their blood was actually toxic, and they operated as a hive mind, it's all super cool. My biggest regret about being in Darrow is not having all my research here with me."

He bounces a little in his seat at Other Newt's description of the Niffler, even as he pats his back pocket to make sure his phone is securely tucked into his sufficiently tight jeans. "Dude, okay, let him at me."

"That is unfortunate," Newt says of all the damage these creatures are apparently capable of, shaking his head. "Still, that is quite something, to dedicate a decade of your life to these kaiju."

This Newt's world sounds entirely more dangerous than even his own, just by the sound of the kaiju. Newt wonders at how the people in Newt's world survived. He can also guess, from his own experiences, of how people might come to view those that study these creatures, and he admires Newt all the more for his dedication.

"And a hive mind?" Newt blinks, even more curious now. "Merlin. I've never seen such a thing in such large creatures before. That must have been fascinating."

He nods, before bringing his suitcase to the front of his knees. Cautiously, he opens it, and a loud, gurgling noise rushes through. "Dougal, no. We've been through this. You can't come out just yet. Merlin knows that's the last thing I need, you running invisible throughout Darrow."

Once Dougal is settled, Newt reaches in and quickly grabs the Niffler, pulling him out before shutting the suitcase tight.

"One Niffler, as requested," he says, holding the squirming creature in his arms to show to Newt.

"It was worth every second," Newt says. He's not bullshitting, working at the 'Dome had given his life the kind of meaning he hadn't even known he was looking for and look where he'd ended up: saving the goddamn world. Had he stuck around after the Breach had closed rather than ending up here, there's no telling what kind of super rock star life he'd be leading right now.

Granted, in that alternate version of Darrow Barry had opened up on accident not too long ago, he'd been a rock star there, too. From what he'd gathered, he'd been a real piece of shit, though Newt doesn't need that example to know he's got it made here in Darrow. He's fulfilled in a completely different way, and he's happy.

All of those thoughts get pushed immediately to the side once Other Newt starts fiddling with his suitcase, whispering things to something Newt can't see yet, and he cranes his neck just to try to get a better look. Glancing around them, he's relieved to find that nobody seems to be paying any attention to them and when he looks back at Other Newt, his eyes widen in awe at the little thing wriggling in the guy's hands.

"Holy shit." The thing, the Niffler, kind of looks like a platypus-mole hybrid, and it stares at him with black, beady, curious eyes. It looks innocent enough, Newt thinks, but then it reaches out for the shiny, silver spoon on the table and is only unsuccessful in grabbing it because Other Newt is holding it back. "So he's kind of a little klepto, huh? That's freakin' awesome!"

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