[The implication of his invitation is lost on Newt. Maybe if he were in a clearer headspace, he'd realize, but he's been reduced to tunnel vision. He's focused on the keyboard, the promise of experimentation. It's enough to see him through the few minutes it will take to test the theory, and then he can worry about what he'll do if it doesn't work. In any case, he knows that touching Rosalind does work. Relief does exist, and it's harmless. They can hold hands while he shows her his salamanders and she tells him about where she's from. It's symbiosis, nothing more. Mutually beneficial.]
Nah, I have a roommate. I had this big place all to myself so I could keep my monsters? But then this old guy was looking for a place to stay... I'm renting him a room, I guess. He's part of the Russian mob, or something. He's cool.
[And as promised, it's just a couple of minutes before they're at his wonky little house in one of the spiraling residential streets.
It's about what you'd expect from Newt if the lab is anything to go by. Half of the dining table has been overrun with stacks of notes and diagrams and odd models built out of Null scrap metal. Monster organs and teeth and eyeballs float serenely in jars on the kitchen counter, shoved into one corner by an irritated roommate who just wanted to make breakfast. One of the four bedroom doors is open, and it's clearly Newt's room, the bed unmade and the floor barely visible under all the papers and clothing. Of the closed doors, one is marked with various DO NOT ENTER and DANGER signs, some scribbled in what could only be Newt's handwriting and some drawn in crayon by a significantly younger hand. Beyond the door, something is growling softly.
The keyboard is set on the coffee table in the living room, the only truly clear area of the house. His roommate pays rent in housekeeping.]
Yeah, looks like Semiyon's out. I doubt he'll be around to bug us anytime soon.
no subject
Nah, I have a roommate. I had this big place all to myself so I could keep my monsters? But then this old guy was looking for a place to stay... I'm renting him a room, I guess. He's part of the Russian mob, or something. He's cool.
[And as promised, it's just a couple of minutes before they're at his wonky little house in one of the spiraling residential streets.
It's about what you'd expect from Newt if the lab is anything to go by. Half of the dining table has been overrun with stacks of notes and diagrams and odd models built out of Null scrap metal. Monster organs and teeth and eyeballs float serenely in jars on the kitchen counter, shoved into one corner by an irritated roommate who just wanted to make breakfast. One of the four bedroom doors is open, and it's clearly Newt's room, the bed unmade and the floor barely visible under all the papers and clothing. Of the closed doors, one is marked with various DO NOT ENTER and DANGER signs, some scribbled in what could only be Newt's handwriting and some drawn in crayon by a significantly younger hand. Beyond the door, something is growling softly.
The keyboard is set on the coffee table in the living room, the only truly clear area of the house. His roommate pays rent in housekeeping.]
Yeah, looks like Semiyon's out. I doubt he'll be around to bug us anytime soon.
[This is good news, right?]