"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."