[Lunch is far better than Newt ever could have expected, and their second real "meeting" is pretty much filed away as a success. Arguments feel natural, but they're not heated. We're good together, he thinks perhaps too optimistically. They're good at engaging each other. Hermann is really far too clever for how modest he can be and even the ridiculous uppityness of his demeanor isn't too off-putting. It feels natural, their opposite personalities. Clearly this is why they work together: the ideas flow and bounce--they should have written a paper...
They return to the office and Newt thinks Hermann paid. That was sort of a date.
...That was sort of a date.
He tries NOT to think about that for the rest of the afternoon and instead tries to preoccupy himself with a combination of work and thinking about Joaquin's sexuality questioning.
The taxi ride home is spent with his nose in the phone, looking over this world's web resources for asexuality and sexual identity. He wishes it was more of a distraction, and by the time he's home and has the box of letters in hand, he's full of anxiety that might not even be entirely his own.]
So! I took the liberty of getting Chinese, because who doesn't like Chinese food, right? [And, well, there had been a receipt in his mess of stuff at work. He just...ordered the same thing they'd eaten previously, as older selves. Easy. Couldn't get it wrong (unless Herman didn't like his order...what if Hermann didn't like his food?? They'd been doing so well...)]
[A laugh as he puts the box of letters on the table next to the bag of takeout] There were so many take-out and delivery place numbers in my phone. It was ridic. You think we ever actually made our own food?
no subject
They return to the office and Newt thinks Hermann paid. That was sort of a date.
...That was sort of a date.
He tries NOT to think about that for the rest of the afternoon and instead tries to preoccupy himself with a combination of work and thinking about Joaquin's sexuality questioning.
The taxi ride home is spent with his nose in the phone, looking over this world's web resources for asexuality and sexual identity. He wishes it was more of a distraction, and by the time he's home and has the box of letters in hand, he's full of anxiety that might not even be entirely his own.]
So! I took the liberty of getting Chinese, because who doesn't like Chinese food, right? [And, well, there had been a receipt in his mess of stuff at work. He just...ordered the same thing they'd eaten previously, as older selves. Easy. Couldn't get it wrong (unless Herman didn't like his order...what if Hermann didn't like his food?? They'd been doing so well...)]
[A laugh as he puts the box of letters on the table next to the bag of takeout] There were so many take-out and delivery place numbers in my phone. It was ridic. You think we ever actually made our own food?