(Newt had been a complete shut-in. Maybe it was selfish but he'd just gotten away from something like this not even a month ago. It was too close to home and the kid rattled into a violent panic attack any time he had to see these symptoms first hand.

Really, he'd be no use to anyone in the state he was in lately. His own health was at rock bottom- how could he save anyone when he was still working on saving himself?

Unfortunately for Thom, this means that Newt is around. And Peter too, really.

As a matter of fact, Newt's sprawled out on the couch when Thom comes in and at first, he just figures Thom's coming in from taking a walk. Newt's got his head down and his attention focused on what looks like a scrap book. He glances up briefly to Thom and then back down.

Only to snap his head back up. The scrap book hits the floor just a second after his feet do and he's over at Thom's side within seconds.)

Bloody hell, Thommy, what'd you do-

(His voice trembles, worry already bubbling up thick in his gut. He whips his head around and calls out into the house:)

Peter! Peter.

(He turns his head back around and raises a hand to rest it against the side of Thom's neck, gently easing his head back so he could get a good look at the boy's face.)

Fuck. Okay- do your powers work on yourself? How much should I be pissing myself? Do you need anything?

(Someone write this kid a How To Deal With Your Magical Roommates Handbook stat please.)