[Newt has not been sleeping well as of late. Imagine that. Not that his sleeping habits have ever been strictly normal, per se, but they worked for him. He's been known to go days without rest while engrossed in some project only to later pass out for so long that he's not immediately sure what day it is when he wakes up, even after looking at the clock. It's not healthy, he knows, but it's his choice.
So spending each night rolling around fitfully, either unable to sleep or waking up sweating and clutching his throat when he does, is annoying. It's more than annoying, actually, but he's going to call it annoying. It's easier.
All this to say: Newt hears someone monkeying around outside his room, but he chooses to ignore it. Chances are, it's Semiyon finally getting sick of his shit and tidying up after him. Good. That was their arrangement, after all, and it's better than him crashing Newt's pity party.
He crawls out of bed eventually, once it's late enough in the morning that trying to sleep is truly pointless, and then he stumbles out of his bedroom in his underwear. It's warm enough for it, and it's not like Semiyon hasn't already seen—]
Oh. Um.
[As if Rosalind seated his table making accusations wasn't jarring enough, the echo flowers start up as soon as he moves through the doorway. There was all of a second or two between the start of their song and him noticing Rosalind at the table, but really, he knew she was there even before he saw her. It's instinctive—who else would be capable of immediately mastering the echo flower chorus?
He stands at the edge of the kitchen, kicking himself for not having bothered to put on more clothes and not really knowing why he's hung up on that particular detail.]
Not... you specifically. It's not p— Hey!
[Without his glasses, he hadn't quite pieced together what she was reading, but now that he has, he crosses to the table in an attempt to snatch it away from her. Like that'll matter.]
iii obvs
So spending each night rolling around fitfully, either unable to sleep or waking up sweating and clutching his throat when he does, is annoying. It's more than annoying, actually, but he's going to call it annoying. It's easier.
All this to say: Newt hears someone monkeying around outside his room, but he chooses to ignore it. Chances are, it's Semiyon finally getting sick of his shit and tidying up after him. Good. That was their arrangement, after all, and it's better than him crashing Newt's pity party.
He crawls out of bed eventually, once it's late enough in the morning that trying to sleep is truly pointless, and then he stumbles out of his bedroom in his underwear. It's warm enough for it, and it's not like Semiyon hasn't already seen—]
Oh. Um.
[As if Rosalind seated his table making accusations wasn't jarring enough, the echo flowers start up as soon as he moves through the doorway. There was all of a second or two between the start of their song and him noticing Rosalind at the table, but really, he knew she was there even before he saw her. It's instinctive—who else would be capable of immediately mastering the echo flower chorus?
He stands at the edge of the kitchen, kicking himself for not having bothered to put on more clothes and not really knowing why he's hung up on that particular detail.]
Not... you specifically. It's not p— Hey!
[Without his glasses, he hadn't quite pieced together what she was reading, but now that he has, he crosses to the table in an attempt to snatch it away from her. Like that'll matter.]