[It is a weirdly unnerving to read something he hasn't yet written, but will. It feels wrong, voyeuristic, as it had to read and watch their interactions on the network--removed from him, like watching old home-movies of a time when he couldn't remember.
It begins simply enough, and Newt reads it as if he was reading his lecture, with interest and variety, but still somewhat lacking the passion of a delivered speech, because he has no idea where this letter was going, or why, really, other than what could be surmised from reading Hermann's replies.]
"I promise future correspondence will be conducted in a more professional, type-written manner." Well, that was a lie, huh?
[Clearly this has been in response to a conversation that is now lost--unless it is on the network somewhere--to forgotten memories. But luckily, he has done a decent enough job of memorializing what it was about. They had obviously argued over calling their Drift a superpower. What a lame argument. How incredibly domestic, while trying too hard to be academic. It is cute, he finds himself thinking. Very cute. Almost like they want to argue. ...If it wasn't himself and Hermann, it would be extremely disgustingly adorable. (I'm seriously disgusting, he told Joaquin earlier. How true that is now).]
We've got to be careful with this thing. I've basically laid out the parameters and possibilities of our Drift, here, dude. [Hermann had, in his half, expressed concern about others knowing about their powers, and Newt can now see why.]
Hermann-goggles. Cute. [He keeps reading.]
...Together nearly 24/7. God. And we lived to tell the tale. [...And, after the room analogy:] ...Shit, do I ever shut up? And after all that, all I say is "Semantics"? Really, jesus. Take the pen away from me. [...He conceded a point to Hermann. Wow.]
...So these are the bulleted alphabetical points your letter discusses.
[Newt looks up, finishes the line, and stares at Hermann, concern and uncertainty tugging his mouth down into a frown.] "...there is no going back. The tape has been ripped up. Otachi Jr aside, our lab was our Jaeger." ...Otachi Jr.?
no subject
It begins simply enough, and Newt reads it as if he was reading his lecture, with interest and variety, but still somewhat lacking the passion of a delivered speech, because he has no idea where this letter was going, or why, really, other than what could be surmised from reading Hermann's replies.]
"I promise future correspondence will be conducted in a more professional, type-written manner." Well, that was a lie, huh?
[Clearly this has been in response to a conversation that is now lost--unless it is on the network somewhere--to forgotten memories. But luckily, he has done a decent enough job of memorializing what it was about. They had obviously argued over calling their Drift a superpower. What a lame argument. How incredibly domestic, while trying too hard to be academic. It is cute, he finds himself thinking. Very cute. Almost like they want to argue. ...If it wasn't himself and Hermann, it would be extremely disgustingly adorable. (I'm seriously disgusting, he told Joaquin earlier. How true that is now).]
We've got to be careful with this thing. I've basically laid out the parameters and possibilities of our Drift, here, dude. [Hermann had, in his half, expressed concern about others knowing about their powers, and Newt can now see why.]
Hermann-goggles. Cute. [He keeps reading.]
...Together nearly 24/7. God. And we lived to tell the tale. [...And, after the room analogy:] ...Shit, do I ever shut up? And after all that, all I say is "Semantics"? Really, jesus. Take the pen away from me. [...He conceded a point to Hermann. Wow.]
...So these are the bulleted alphabetical points your letter discusses.
[Newt looks up, finishes the line, and stares at Hermann, concern and uncertainty tugging his mouth down into a frown.] "...there is no going back. The tape has been ripped up. Otachi Jr aside, our lab was our Jaeger." ...Otachi Jr.?