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?"