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[groupiedrifter]

"This is Newt — still alive... still hanging in there."

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[bijective]

[He lets out a mildly defeated sigh.]

Alright, fine.

[It was one of those things where there was little room for argument. Hermann doesn’t exactly have the luxury of knocking on anyone else’s door and explain how much of a wreck he has become, both physically and mentally.

If there is anyone in this universe he’d prefer to present his more vulnerable qualities, it would be Newton.]

If you insist then, I would greatly appreciate the company.

[groupiedrifter]

Alright, good!

[He pats the bed come-hitheringly.]

Come relax, prop up a pillow or whatever! Lemme get the player. [He's up like a jackrabbit, moving to the other side of the relatively small room.] You wanna watch Jaws? I found Jaws the other way; we can both bitch about the inaccuracies of how they portray sharks. It'll be nice.

And whenever your stomach's good, I got some emergency snacks leftover.

[bijective]

[It takes Hermann a second, but he sits back down at the edge of Newton’s bed, albeit rather stiffly. The thought of him crawling on his friend’s mattress makes him feel rather immature.

He looks at the pillows on the other side of the bed with his head continuing to throb.

'...Sod it'. He tells himself and crawls into a comfortable nook without putting too much pressure on his left leg.]

Whichever title you’d prefer. I’m in no position to make any coherent decisions at this hour.

[groupiedrifter]

[It's fine, it's cool. Newt bunches up a blanket and adjusts it under Hermann's leg for him, because he just knows, and it just kinda happens without him thinking twice about it. Once he does that particularly autopiloted task, he flops back down with the portable player sitting on his chest.

The glow casts across Newt and Hermann's weary expressions as the power comes on.]

'This hour', he says, like there's a sun or moon to guilt trip us... [He's just poking fun, really. The title screen of Jaws comes on, and he plays it before he lets his head settle back against his pillow. He turns his head a little to peer at his friend from the corner of his eye, though he doesn't have to turn far.] How's that? Not too bright?

[bijective]

Mm…If you can lower it just a smidge, please.

[Hermann adjusts himself a little more before settling a few inches closer to Newt. His hands resting on top of his belly, much like a sea otter floating around on a sunny day.

He squints his eyes as he watches the title sequence.]

Is this one of those sensationalised documentaries?

[groupiedrifter]

[He lowers the brightness a smidge.

Ah, nothing like far from factual inaccuracies about a particular species of creature for the sake of a horror movie. They can watch Cujo next! So that Newt can complain about the completely off-base writing of an animal experiencing rabies turning into an actual 80's slasher killer.

But anyway.]

Documentary? No way, man, this was a Steven Spielberg blockbuster.

You never saw Jaws, or what? It's pretty bad, but it's pretty good.

[Newtonian logic at work here.]