"He called you Joyce," Newt said to the Appaloosa Puffskein that was once more tucked in the lapels of his coat. "You know what that means?" Joyce clearly didn't, but, being snug and happy, she hummed in reply. 'I think it means I can keep you,' he silently explained, having noticed a relatively young witch goggling him from another table.
'Public spaces...' He shook his head slightly, lips curving in a self-deprecating smile as he turned his attention to his food. There was a clattering of silverware from the other table, but it barely impinged on his thoughts.
Percival Graves. The image of salt and pepper hair over a warm, subtle smile absorbed his consciousness as the magizoologist absently cut bits of meat to feed to Joyce. He recalled... The deft movements of strong fingers rolling up sleeves which fabric strained against contracting muscles... The out of control broom ride of expression from minor panic to chagrin to exasperation... That soaring, exhilarating feeling when hands touched and eyes met, like--
"Well aren't you just a tall glass of giggle water." His train of non-thought was halted by Queenie, who seemed to have Apparated in front of him. And whose wide, blissful grin was almost certainly a mirror of his own expression.
"I think Percival will allow me to keep Joyce," he told her, magically pushing a chair out for her.
"I think Percival will do a lot more than that!" Her joyful smile became, impossibly, more radiant as she took the offered seat, setting a white box on the table. "Can I see her?"
"Of course, but..." He glanced around the MACUSA dining hall.
"You're Newt Scamander."
"The infamous?" He asked, smile twisting wryly to the left before he shrugged and gently lifted the puffskein out of his coat.
The blonde witch cooed softly as she took Joyce in both hands. "Trust me, honey, that's not why they're staring at you."
Not having a response to that enigmatic comment, he said instead, "She is, I believe, the last Appaloosa Puffskein."
"She's precious." Queenie raised Joyce to her cheek and basked, eyes closed, in the creature's soft fur and soothing hum. She opened them after a moment and prompted, "Well?"
"Well, what?" He lowered his gaze to his food again while nervous fingers went first to his hair, then his mouth. "Don't you already know?" He knew she wouldn't deliberately read him, but "Percival Graves might just fancy me, too! ♡" might as well have been exploding in magical fireworks over his head, as huge as that thought was in his mind.
She chuckled at that, lightly touching the hand that had remained on the table, and responded, "But I want to hear you tell me all about it, and so does Teenie."
"Tell us all about what?" Tina asked, startling Newt as she came up behind him. She gave Joyce a passing pat, then pulled out a chair and sat down before he had a chance to offer.
"I thought you were with the president," he said, making room for her food tray.
"I just passed on some bits and pieces from informants. I haven't been involved in the case." She shrugged off the subject. "Now, tell us about what?"
"Why all about him and..." Queenie's smile turned a bit wicked, "Percival."
"Per-- No." The darker sister shook her head. "He's Director Graves. And yes, Newt, explain what exactly it was I saw back there."
"Um--"
A bright peel of laughter cut him off. "Really?" The Legilimens fought for composure as eyes once more focused on their table. "He had that book?"
Tina's eyes narrowed. "Newt, if he tries anything from--"
"He won't." He interrupted, voice soft though he could feel his expression warring between humor and feeling touched at her concern. "I honestly don't think he knew what it was."
"Well, I suppose..." It was her face's turn to be undecided as it wavered between amusement and bewilderment. "I've never seen him look remotely flustered before."
"He fixed the lock on my case," he added happily.
"That's..." Before Tina could decide quite what she thought of that, her sister chimed in again.
"You mean he actually thought it was about locks?" Queenie's eyes gleamed in a way that Newt didn't understand as she grinned conspiratorially at a bemused but happy puffskein.
"Queenie." Her sister apparently comprehended what man and beast could not. "You wouldn't."
"Not much, Teenie. Besides, a little gossip will be good for him." Tina raised an eyebrow at that. "He's gotta be feeling so... apart."
"I thought you couldn't read him?"
"I can't, but think about it." Newt did, suddenly feeling.... heavier. "He's abducted, locked away." He couldn't recall seeing Percival look anything but strong and sure. "And then, when he gets back he finds out nobody he knows even noticed the imposter."
"I just thought..." Tina responded hesitantly. "You know, the war and all... Well, all anyone heard him say afterward was something about being glad Grindelwald had kept up the paperwork." He managed a half smile at the characteristic remark. "Has he said anything to you?"
"It, um, hasn't come up," he said guiltily, fidgeting with his fork.
"Don't tell me you've done nothing but talk about your creatures?"
"We also talked about coffee." Creatures had come up then, too. "A little."
"I don't think he minds too much." Queenie reassured him. "And there're plenty more chances. In the meantime... Teenie," she turned her attention to her sister, "That is not all you're eating."
"You've spoiled me." Tina grimaced at her plate.
"Luckily," the blonde witch untied the paper ribbon on her box, "I stopped by Jacob's bakery." She revealed a small menagerie of baked goods. "Demiguise?" She offered.
Newt met danish Dougal's eyes and almost flinched. "I had a big breakfast."
"I'll take a niffler." Did they have to call them by the creature names? "And an occamy egg."
"I--" He jumped to his feet, interrupting Queenie's decapitation of a pastry thunderbird. "Percival still wanted to discuss Joyce," he attempted to excuse himself.
"He's probably still busy with Picquery," Tina answered around a grisly mouthful.
"I'll just check in any case..." Not that he knew now what he would say -- what they would talk about...
"It'll be fine, honey." Queenie gave him an encouraging smile as she passed Joyce back to him. The puffskein was gnawing on what might once have been mooncalf bread. "Just make some coffee."
"Thank you," he replied, incapable of not returning her smile.
"And have a normal, human conversation," Tina supplied. He managed to keep a grin (grimace?) on his face as he waved goodbye.
"He'll do better than both of you think." He heard Queenie say as he walked away. "You'll see."
---
It wasn't until the next morning that Newt could finally meet Percival. He made his way, alternating between brisk and lagging paces, through MACUSA corridors.
'A normal, human conversation.' He'd had several with Jacob, Queenie, and Tina. It should be just as easy with Percival.
'Say, what are you into, besides coffee and magical security?'
No. That was awkward teenager conversation.
'So, how are you adjusting after your ordeal?'
Is that what it would sound like if a murtlap could make conversation?
"People aren't really that complicated," Queenie had said. Human conversation, on the other hand... was a way to make things complicated.
"Hum." Joyce, sensing his confusion, made her soothing hum.
"Thanks," he answered her, earning happy vibrations. "You're straightforward enough." And so was coffee. That was a start... and there was the door.
"Come on in" sounded and the door opened almost as soon as he touched it. The smell of the office, somehow cozy (wood, wool, and lingering coffee) and professional (parchment, leather, and ink), instantly relaxed him.
"Good morning," he said, entering with a smile. "I--" His mouth swiftly turned downward as he met the other man's gaze. Percival's return smile was weighted by apparent fatigue and dark circles were forming under his eyes. And his collar was ever so slightly askew. "Did you sleep?"
The Auror's expression turned rueful. "I was here all night," he explained, allowing his elbows to rest on his desk and raising fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Do I look that bad?" He asked, still smiling, chin resting in the L made by thumb and index finger.
"No," Newt replied, eyes fixing on the hint of stubble on the older man's cheeks and the subtle disarray of his hair. He remembered himself when the smile he was staring at shifted to a smirk. "You do look a bit... disreputable, though." As they shared a moment of laughter, he finally started to believe what Queenie had told him. "Anything I can do?" Simple as that.
"Unless you know much about multi-city, illegal potion cartels..." He shook his head. "Then a good, strong cup of coffee will be more than enough."
"I can manage that. Do you mind?" He set his case on the desk and then held Joyce out to his host.
"Our little troublemaker," Percival said, taking the puffskein and holding her up to make eye contact. Joyce hummed a high, happy greeting. Newt's heart did an inaudible imitation of the sound at both the words and the gentle grin that accompanied them.
Cheeks heating, he busied himself with his case. Mechanism smooth now, he flicked it to "Muggle Worthy" and opened it. "Dark roasted and percolated sound good?"
"Sounds perfect," the tired wizard sighed as he rested the puffskein on his shoulder.
Newt cast Aguamenti and set to work. "I haven't used this very much..." Just once, in practice, since Jacob had given it to him. "How long should it perk?"
"Until a wand stands up in it," Percival replied. He held Joyce with his free hand while he reached down to his lower desk drawer.
"Pardon?"
"It's what the frontier wizard's used to say." He pulled out something surprisingly large. "It'll take a while and I'll keep an eye on it. In the meantime..."
Heating spell working steadily and ground coffee loaded in the basket, Newt looked fully at the other object on the desk. "A phonograph?"
"An indulgence in times like this." Percival reached down again and pulled out some records. "Most of my collection is at home, but you can choose from what's here." He leaned back, splitting his attention between his guest and the coffee.
The magizoologist leaned forward and picked up the first disc. He didn't know this Mr. Armstrong, but 'Heebie Jeebies' sounded like one heck of a jinx. He looked at the next and finally registered that the images on the covers were still. "Is this Muggle music?"
The Auror shrugged. "Music is its own magic. The simplest kind." He turned fully to his companion. "No-maj music speaks to the part of us that is just human." There was a distant gleam in his eyes. "Sometimes we need that."
Newt looked again at the records, noticing that a disproportionate number of them bore dates in the current year. 'I guess relief over paperwork wasn't the only thing he felt...' He glanced up again. Percival was absently stroking Joyce as he stared, eyes vague, at the phonograph. For a few moments, only the bubbling percolator and humming puffskein made any sound. The younger man flipped through the discs again, finding the one that sounded the most uplifting.
'If music is magic, let's hope this is a healing kind.' Aloud, he said, "I don't know a thing about Muggle music, but this has 'bird' in the title, so..."
The Auror's gaze regained focus. He looked from the record to Newt and his mouth curved with humor. "'Bye Bye, Blackbird'?"
"No good?"
"It's perfect." He accepted the disc. "Thank you," he added, voice softer, smile and crinkling eyes warmed with gratitude. Newt simply smiled in return. "Coffee's about ready, by the way. Cups are..." He waved his wand, magicking out the dishes and then started setting up the phonograph.
The first buzz of static and merry notes of music sounded as Newt poured a generous cup for Percival and, after a whiff of the strong brew, a very modest serving for himself. He passed the full cup as is and then accepted the creamer from his host.
"Oh," the Auror gingerly took a sip, hissed at the heat, but still took another. "That is what I needed." He smiled through the steam off his cup. "Well, what do you think?" He jerked his head slightly toward the phonograph.
"I can see why you like it." It really did make one feel... liberated. And it seemed it wasn't just the humans, either. Joyce had perked up, eyes wide, but not distressed. She wiggled in time with the music and made occasional happy squeaks. "I think Joyce loves it, though."
"Is excellent taste in music something Appaloosa Puffskein are known for?" Percival split a smile between his two guests, wizard and beast.
"Not that I've heard. It could be that the increased intelligence they were bred for enables them to..." Oops. Newt sheepishly returned the grin (but not the raised eyebrow) that was directed at him. He took a sip of his coffee, eyes widening at the strength. He watched the other man mask a smirk behind his own coffee cup. Then, his eyes widened again as Percival dipped the tip of a finger in his mug and held it up to Joyce, who licked it with evident relish.
"She really does have good taste." It was a good thing the magizoologist was no longer holding his own cup. He would have dropped it. As it was... The scene before him... Percival Graves, smiling fondly at a puffskein as he scratched her head and fed her a bit of sugar...
"Merlin's Beard..." he breathed as the suddenly overheated room seemed to almost spin around him.
"Pardon?"
"You should keep Joyce!" he blurted out, impulsively. Yet, even when he thought it through -- flushing as he did so at Percival's renewed smirk -- it was a good idea. A good home for the last Appaloosa Puffskein and a calming companion for a slowly healing wizard.
"Well," the Auror drawled his answer, looking back and forth between Joyce's adoring gaze and Newt's (undoubtedly equally shining). "I almost think you're right, but..." His smirk smoothed a bit. "In all seriousness--"
"The care of Appaloosa Puffskein is incredibly simple. They don't mind hours spent alone. They eat almost anything, though I wouldn't recommend too much coffee or sugar." Percival sipped his coffee and listened patiently as Newt rattled on. "They are very quick to house train and, unlike other breeds, have no propensity to drink from commodes..." The older man was smiling at him again. "And they eat spiders and insects."
"Well..." Joyce snuggled against Percival's cheek, humming more contentedly than ever. Newt's heart (and the room around him) flip-flopped again at the sight of the strong hand that instinctively cradled the wee creature. "How about a trial period?"
The magizoologist's only answer was a wide, uncontainable grin. The other wizard set his cup down with an uncharacteristic clatter. For a few seconds, there was just the scraping of the needle against the long-finished phonograph record.
"I'm afraid," Percival finally said, breaking silence and eye contact, "that my coffee break is over." He looked regretfully at his empty cup.
"Of course." Newt stood with equal regret but no hesitation. "You'll let me know if there's anything I can do?" He offered as he waved his wand to tidy up.
"Naturally."
With that, they took their leave. He smiled, case swinging slightly in his hand, as the door closed behind him. 'Normal human conversation achieved.'
"Ack!" He froze midway through his first step away from the door.
He'd spent half the conversation talking about beasts...
'Oh, well,' he thought, resuming motion, 'I'll do better next time.' He sang softly as he went to his own work, "Bye, bye blackbird." 🎶
---
[Notes: The title is from the lyrics of "Bye Bye Blackbird." And I think Newt's current work is to sort out all inaccurate crap about fantastic beasts that's in the MACUSA library (with Ms. Harding). Oh, and some records from that era did have copyright or recording dates printed on the labels. I checked.]
Fill: It's the Little Things, Episode 3: Sugar's Sweet and So Is She
'Public spaces...' He shook his head slightly, lips curving in a self-deprecating smile as he turned his attention to his food. There was a clattering of silverware from the other table, but it barely impinged on his thoughts.
Percival Graves. The image of salt and pepper hair over a warm, subtle smile absorbed his consciousness as the magizoologist absently cut bits of meat to feed to Joyce. He recalled... The deft movements of strong fingers rolling up sleeves which fabric strained against contracting muscles... The out of control broom ride of expression from minor panic to chagrin to exasperation... That soaring, exhilarating feeling when hands touched and eyes met, like--
"Well aren't you just a tall glass of giggle water." His train of non-thought was halted by Queenie, who seemed to have Apparated in front of him. And whose wide, blissful grin was almost certainly a mirror of his own expression.
"I think Percival will allow me to keep Joyce," he told her, magically pushing a chair out for her.
"I think Percival will do a lot more than that!" Her joyful smile became, impossibly, more radiant as she took the offered seat, setting a white box on the table. "Can I see her?"
"Of course, but..." He glanced around the MACUSA dining hall.
"You're Newt Scamander."
"The infamous?" He asked, smile twisting wryly to the left before he shrugged and gently lifted the puffskein out of his coat.
The blonde witch cooed softly as she took Joyce in both hands. "Trust me, honey, that's not why they're staring at you."
Not having a response to that enigmatic comment, he said instead, "She is, I believe, the last Appaloosa Puffskein."
"She's precious." Queenie raised Joyce to her cheek and basked, eyes closed, in the creature's soft fur and soothing hum. She opened them after a moment and prompted, "Well?"
"Well, what?" He lowered his gaze to his food again while nervous fingers went first to his hair, then his mouth. "Don't you already know?" He knew she wouldn't deliberately read him, but "Percival Graves might just fancy me, too! ♡" might as well have been exploding in magical fireworks over his head, as huge as that thought was in his mind.
She chuckled at that, lightly touching the hand that had remained on the table, and responded, "But I want to hear you tell me all about it, and so does Teenie."
"Tell us all about what?" Tina asked, startling Newt as she came up behind him. She gave Joyce a passing pat, then pulled out a chair and sat down before he had a chance to offer.
"I thought you were with the president," he said, making room for her food tray.
"I just passed on some bits and pieces from informants. I haven't been involved in the case." She shrugged off the subject. "Now, tell us about what?"
"Why all about him and..." Queenie's smile turned a bit wicked, "Percival."
"Per-- No." The darker sister shook her head. "He's Director Graves. And yes, Newt, explain what exactly it was I saw back there."
"Um--"
A bright peel of laughter cut him off. "Really?" The Legilimens fought for composure as eyes once more focused on their table. "He had that book?"
Tina's eyes narrowed. "Newt, if he tries anything from--"
"He won't." He interrupted, voice soft though he could feel his expression warring between humor and feeling touched at her concern. "I honestly don't think he knew what it was."
"Well, I suppose..." It was her face's turn to be undecided as it wavered between amusement and bewilderment. "I've never seen him look remotely flustered before."
"He fixed the lock on my case," he added happily.
"That's..." Before Tina could decide quite what she thought of that, her sister chimed in again.
"You mean he actually thought it was about locks?" Queenie's eyes gleamed in a way that Newt didn't understand as she grinned conspiratorially at a bemused but happy puffskein.
"Queenie." Her sister apparently comprehended what man and beast could not. "You wouldn't."
"Not much, Teenie. Besides, a little gossip will be good for him." Tina raised an eyebrow at that. "He's gotta be feeling so... apart."
"I thought you couldn't read him?"
"I can't, but think about it." Newt did, suddenly feeling.... heavier. "He's abducted, locked away." He couldn't recall seeing Percival look anything but strong and sure. "And then, when he gets back he finds out nobody he knows even noticed the imposter."
"I just thought..." Tina responded hesitantly. "You know, the war and all... Well, all anyone heard him say afterward was something about being glad Grindelwald had kept up the paperwork." He managed a half smile at the characteristic remark. "Has he said anything to you?"
"It, um, hasn't come up," he said guiltily, fidgeting with his fork.
"Don't tell me you've done nothing but talk about your creatures?"
"We also talked about coffee." Creatures had come up then, too. "A little."
"I don't think he minds too much." Queenie reassured him. "And there're plenty more chances. In the meantime... Teenie," she turned her attention to her sister, "That is not all you're eating."
"You've spoiled me." Tina grimaced at her plate.
"Luckily," the blonde witch untied the paper ribbon on her box, "I stopped by Jacob's bakery." She revealed a small menagerie of baked goods. "Demiguise?" She offered.
Newt met danish Dougal's eyes and almost flinched. "I had a big breakfast."
"I'll take a niffler." Did they have to call them by the creature names? "And an occamy egg."
"I--" He jumped to his feet, interrupting Queenie's decapitation of a pastry thunderbird. "Percival still wanted to discuss Joyce," he attempted to excuse himself.
"He's probably still busy with Picquery," Tina answered around a grisly mouthful.
"I'll just check in any case..." Not that he knew now what he would say -- what they would talk about...
"It'll be fine, honey." Queenie gave him an encouraging smile as she passed Joyce back to him. The puffskein was gnawing on what might once have been mooncalf bread. "Just make some coffee."
"Thank you," he replied, incapable of not returning her smile.
"And have a normal, human conversation," Tina supplied. He managed to keep a grin (grimace?) on his face as he waved goodbye.
"He'll do better than both of you think." He heard Queenie say as he walked away. "You'll see."
---
It wasn't until the next morning that Newt could finally meet Percival. He made his way, alternating between brisk and lagging paces, through MACUSA corridors.
'A normal, human conversation.' He'd had several with Jacob, Queenie, and Tina. It should be just as easy with Percival.
'Say, what are you into, besides coffee and magical security?'
No. That was awkward teenager conversation.
'So, how are you adjusting after your ordeal?'
Is that what it would sound like if a murtlap could make conversation?
"People aren't really that complicated," Queenie had said. Human conversation, on the other hand... was a way to make things complicated.
"Hum." Joyce, sensing his confusion, made her soothing hum.
"Thanks," he answered her, earning happy vibrations. "You're straightforward enough." And so was coffee. That was a start... and there was the door.
"Come on in" sounded and the door opened almost as soon as he touched it. The smell of the office, somehow cozy (wood, wool, and lingering coffee) and professional (parchment, leather, and ink), instantly relaxed him.
"Good morning," he said, entering with a smile. "I--" His mouth swiftly turned downward as he met the other man's gaze. Percival's return smile was weighted by apparent fatigue and dark circles were forming under his eyes. And his collar was ever so slightly askew. "Did you sleep?"
The Auror's expression turned rueful. "I was here all night," he explained, allowing his elbows to rest on his desk and raising fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Do I look that bad?" He asked, still smiling, chin resting in the L made by thumb and index finger.
"No," Newt replied, eyes fixing on the hint of stubble on the older man's cheeks and the subtle disarray of his hair. He remembered himself when the smile he was staring at shifted to a smirk. "You do look a bit... disreputable, though." As they shared a moment of laughter, he finally started to believe what Queenie had told him. "Anything I can do?" Simple as that.
"Unless you know much about multi-city, illegal potion cartels..." He shook his head. "Then a good, strong cup of coffee will be more than enough."
"I can manage that. Do you mind?" He set his case on the desk and then held Joyce out to his host.
"Our little troublemaker," Percival said, taking the puffskein and holding her up to make eye contact. Joyce hummed a high, happy greeting. Newt's heart did an inaudible imitation of the sound at both the words and the gentle grin that accompanied them.
Cheeks heating, he busied himself with his case. Mechanism smooth now, he flicked it to "Muggle Worthy" and opened it. "Dark roasted and percolated sound good?"
"Sounds perfect," the tired wizard sighed as he rested the puffskein on his shoulder.
Newt cast Aguamenti and set to work. "I haven't used this very much..." Just once, in practice, since Jacob had given it to him. "How long should it perk?"
"Until a wand stands up in it," Percival replied. He held Joyce with his free hand while he reached down to his lower desk drawer.
"Pardon?"
"It's what the frontier wizard's used to say." He pulled out something surprisingly large. "It'll take a while and I'll keep an eye on it. In the meantime..."
Heating spell working steadily and ground coffee loaded in the basket, Newt looked fully at the other object on the desk. "A phonograph?"
"An indulgence in times like this." Percival reached down again and pulled out some records. "Most of my collection is at home, but you can choose from what's here." He leaned back, splitting his attention between his guest and the coffee.
The magizoologist leaned forward and picked up the first disc. He didn't know this Mr. Armstrong, but 'Heebie Jeebies' sounded like one heck of a jinx. He looked at the next and finally registered that the images on the covers were still. "Is this Muggle music?"
The Auror shrugged. "Music is its own magic. The simplest kind." He turned fully to his companion. "No-maj music speaks to the part of us that is just human." There was a distant gleam in his eyes. "Sometimes we need that."
Newt looked again at the records, noticing that a disproportionate number of them bore dates in the current year. 'I guess relief over paperwork wasn't the only thing he felt...' He glanced up again. Percival was absently stroking Joyce as he stared, eyes vague, at the phonograph. For a few moments, only the bubbling percolator and humming puffskein made any sound. The younger man flipped through the discs again, finding the one that sounded the most uplifting.
'If music is magic, let's hope this is a healing kind.' Aloud, he said, "I don't know a thing about Muggle music, but this has 'bird' in the title, so..."
The Auror's gaze regained focus. He looked from the record to Newt and his mouth curved with humor. "'Bye Bye, Blackbird'?"
"No good?"
"It's perfect." He accepted the disc. "Thank you," he added, voice softer, smile and crinkling eyes warmed with gratitude. Newt simply smiled in return. "Coffee's about ready, by the way. Cups are..." He waved his wand, magicking out the dishes and then started setting up the phonograph.
The first buzz of static and merry notes of music sounded as Newt poured a generous cup for Percival and, after a whiff of the strong brew, a very modest serving for himself. He passed the full cup as is and then accepted the creamer from his host.
"Oh," the Auror gingerly took a sip, hissed at the heat, but still took another. "That is what I needed." He smiled through the steam off his cup. "Well, what do you think?" He jerked his head slightly toward the phonograph.
"I can see why you like it." It really did make one feel... liberated. And it seemed it wasn't just the humans, either. Joyce had perked up, eyes wide, but not distressed. She wiggled in time with the music and made occasional happy squeaks. "I think Joyce loves it, though."
"Is excellent taste in music something Appaloosa Puffskein are known for?" Percival split a smile between his two guests, wizard and beast.
"Not that I've heard. It could be that the increased intelligence they were bred for enables them to..." Oops. Newt sheepishly returned the grin (but not the raised eyebrow) that was directed at him. He took a sip of his coffee, eyes widening at the strength. He watched the other man mask a smirk behind his own coffee cup. Then, his eyes widened again as Percival dipped the tip of a finger in his mug and held it up to Joyce, who licked it with evident relish.
"She really does have good taste." It was a good thing the magizoologist was no longer holding his own cup. He would have dropped it. As it was... The scene before him... Percival Graves, smiling fondly at a puffskein as he scratched her head and fed her a bit of sugar...
"Merlin's Beard..." he breathed as the suddenly overheated room seemed to almost spin around him.
"Pardon?"
"You should keep Joyce!" he blurted out, impulsively. Yet, even when he thought it through -- flushing as he did so at Percival's renewed smirk -- it was a good idea. A good home for the last Appaloosa Puffskein and a calming companion for a slowly healing wizard.
"Well," the Auror drawled his answer, looking back and forth between Joyce's adoring gaze and Newt's (undoubtedly equally shining). "I almost think you're right, but..." His smirk smoothed a bit. "In all seriousness--"
"The care of Appaloosa Puffskein is incredibly simple. They don't mind hours spent alone. They eat almost anything, though I wouldn't recommend too much coffee or sugar." Percival sipped his coffee and listened patiently as Newt rattled on. "They are very quick to house train and, unlike other breeds, have no propensity to drink from commodes..." The older man was smiling at him again. "And they eat spiders and insects."
"Well..." Joyce snuggled against Percival's cheek, humming more contentedly than ever. Newt's heart (and the room around him) flip-flopped again at the sight of the strong hand that instinctively cradled the wee creature. "How about a trial period?"
The magizoologist's only answer was a wide, uncontainable grin. The other wizard set his cup down with an uncharacteristic clatter. For a few seconds, there was just the scraping of the needle against the long-finished phonograph record.
"I'm afraid," Percival finally said, breaking silence and eye contact, "that my coffee break is over." He looked regretfully at his empty cup.
"Of course." Newt stood with equal regret but no hesitation. "You'll let me know if there's anything I can do?" He offered as he waved his wand to tidy up.
"Naturally."
With that, they took their leave. He smiled, case swinging slightly in his hand, as the door closed behind him. 'Normal human conversation achieved.'
"Ack!" He froze midway through his first step away from the door.
He'd spent half the conversation talking about beasts...
'Oh, well,' he thought, resuming motion, 'I'll do better next time.' He sang softly as he went to his own work, "Bye, bye blackbird." 🎶
---
[Notes: The title is from the lyrics of "Bye Bye Blackbird." And I think Newt's current work is to sort out all inaccurate crap about fantastic beasts that's in the MACUSA library (with Ms. Harding). Oh, and some records from that era did have copyright or recording dates printed on the labels. I checked.]