I don't want to be spoiled! I'll see 'em in my own time. [ Alby outright harrumphs at that, like he's personally offended at the rib. But he's not, not when it comes from Newt-- he might still act grumpy as he does with everyone else, but the irritation never quite reaches his eyes when it's this easy teasing between them. He really is the only one that can get away with provoking Alby in any way, and he can't even really complain about it. They're practically married, and everyone calls them the married Gladers, so. There's that. If it makes Newt laugh the way he does, gets those smiles to light his eyes again, then he'll take the teasing.
Oblivious to the thoughts filtering through his friend's head, he plugs in his mouse and wiggles the track ball back and forth until the cursor moves with it, rearranging all of his windows so that he can pull the game up. ]
Bet we could beat it before morning if we don't shuck off too much. [ He has to move around, actually sit at his desk properly and relocate his laptop to his desk so that he can prep for the game. ]
Six months after the fact. [ the grumpy tone to his voice just makes newt smile, a soft, crooked little thing full of affection that's blatantly obvious even on the other end of skype. minho was always saying that newt was secretly a grumpy old man, and maybe that was why they made such a good match. for as friendly as newt could be sometimes, he was still maybe a little curmudgeonly, and alby was the same, with about half as much friendliness. it wasn't his fault; they kept each other tempered, calmed down when people were ruffling their feathers.
it's part of why he's so sorry he has to go, but he can't put everything on alby's shoulders.
pulling up the start screen for WCKD, there's the soft sound of him typing as he logs into the system. for a few minutes, it's quiet, besides a murmured "good that" as he considers the suggestion. he'd like that, he doesn't need to sleep. spending his last night on earth with alby is a pretty good way to go.
eventually, he speaks up, a soft "hang on" as he disappears out of the video feed--he comes back in an old, familiar gray sweatshirt, then resettles back into his place on the bed, mouse on a mousepad beside him. there's an odd urgency to his voice when he returns to speaking again, loading up his character. ] We have to beat the whole thing, tonight, no matter what. Promise.
Oh, slim it. [ A mock-grouchy look comes across his face, and Alby waves him off. It's obvious with the way the corners of his mouth twitch that he's trying not to smile back, something that only Newt can really accomplish. Minho calls them both old men, says they're perfect for each other in their crotchety ways, and maybe they are. Newt frequently keeps him grounded, rather than inciting his ire further (most days, anyways). Where he's the more abrassive one, the blond smooths things out. They really are a good pair.
And he tries, he does, to be there when Newt needs him. If only he knew.
A sound of agreement leaves him, as he loads up the game and adjusts where the image of Newt is-- moving him to the top right and resizing the little box-- so that he can gear up for the game. It's a one-two-three after that, his character selected as he waits for Newt to come back.
When he does, the corners of his eyes crinkle a little, something small and affectionate as he sees the old sweater from ages ago. It technically fits Newt right, except for the part where he's seen him sitting with it hanging off a shoulder before. But that fondness fades at the urgency, and his brow furrows a little. ] ... yeah, Newt. Promise we will. [ And yet he still offers him the promise. ]
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Oblivious to the thoughts filtering through his friend's head, he plugs in his mouse and wiggles the track ball back and forth until the cursor moves with it, rearranging all of his windows so that he can pull the game up. ]
Bet we could beat it before morning if we don't shuck off too much. [ He has to move around, actually sit at his desk properly and relocate his laptop to his desk so that he can prep for the game. ]
too tired for hte other one too feelsy @A@
it's part of why he's so sorry he has to go, but he can't put everything on alby's shoulders.
pulling up the start screen for WCKD, there's the soft sound of him typing as he logs into the system. for a few minutes, it's quiet, besides a murmured "good that" as he considers the suggestion. he'd like that, he doesn't need to sleep. spending his last night on earth with alby is a pretty good way to go.
eventually, he speaks up, a soft "hang on" as he disappears out of the video feed--he comes back in an old, familiar gray sweatshirt, then resettles back into his place on the bed, mouse on a mousepad beside him. there's an odd urgency to his voice when he returns to speaking again, loading up his character. ] We have to beat the whole thing, tonight, no matter what. Promise.
14/28 done more rewards.
And he tries, he does, to be there when Newt needs him. If only he knew.
A sound of agreement leaves him, as he loads up the game and adjusts where the image of Newt is-- moving him to the top right and resizing the little box-- so that he can gear up for the game. It's a one-two-three after that, his character selected as he waits for Newt to come back.
When he does, the corners of his eyes crinkle a little, something small and affectionate as he sees the old sweater from ages ago. It technically fits Newt right, except for the part where he's seen him sitting with it hanging off a shoulder before. But that fondness fades at the urgency, and his brow furrows a little. ] ... yeah, Newt. Promise we will. [ And yet he still offers him the promise. ]