Newt is an extremely tactile person by nature. The more he likes you the more touchy he gets. Unless he really really likes you and then he gets all awkward around you and maybe even starts avoiding you like the plague.
Oh, he was smiling, he was smiling! My, what a cutie. Remy had to admit, if he had to pick up some random girl or guy in order to get into S.H.I.E.L.D., he was glad it was this one. Young, and cute, and, well. Never would he admit it out loud, but…
Nerds. They were kind of a turn-on.
“Newt,” He repeated, breathing out a chuckle, giving a few nods. “Newt. Okay. That’s adorable.” He paused. Some guys were pretty clear on their masculinity, and would find terms like ‘cute’ offensive. Was that offensive? “No offense.” Hey, he didn’t wanna insult the guy before he’d even gotten the chance to flaunt all of his charms.
He followed the man, of course, to the table. Took a seat, and patiently waited. This didn’t give him much time. Okay - what did he do or say to get Newt intrigued, now? “Love yer, uh. Love yer tattoos. Sorry, I just—-… Really like tattoos. Like said, I get kinda weak ‘round ‘em.” Wow, was that too shallow? It probably was, it was. Okay. Bring in the game, now, LeBeau, you can do this!
“So, uh—- What do ya do exactly? I mean…” He licked his lips, as if shyly. Gave a shrug, and flashed that pretty, pretty smile of his at Newt. “Might as well get ta know each other, since, I dunno… Fate kinda tossed me in yer way. Or made me toss yer coffee in yer way. Anyway.”
He chuckled, Remy was weird. He liked that, and was probably immediately attracted. Birds of a feather and all that. “How could I take any when it’s a compliment?” The coffee had cooled down and didn’t feel warm against his skin. He eyed the staff clearing up the mess they’d made and turned back to the man at the mention of tattoos again, giving him sheepish smile.
“You’re not pulling my leg right?” No one tend to be this interested in anything ever. Except maybe him with aliens. Maybe it had to do with social jitters or something like that. Perhaps the other really did seem interested about his tattoos after all. Now, that wasn’t a regular thing. “They’re aliens. I love aliens.” Newt explained to the man. “Aliens are awesome and fascinating.”
Should he tell Remy that he worked at SHIELD? Not that it was secret or anything, people could see him walking in and out of the office buildings daily anyway. 'Sides, it wasn’t as if he was an agent and needed a secret identity. Then again there were those that disliked SHIELD or the mention of it, so if he’d scared off this stranger (and potential friend) with it… “Erm… I work on aliens, as you probably guessed, you know in SHIELD. That big intelligence agency. It’s cool, I get to interact with aliens, how many people can say they’ve done that?”
He had a mission, ah yes. A mission that proved to be not quite as easy as he’d thought. See, one didn’t break into S.H.I.E.L.D. just like that. Funny how the Stark Tower was less protected than this place, really.
So - he needed a way in. Turns out, he’d have to work for it a little. That was fine. The three-week stake-out was about to pay off in the form of one of the S.H.I.E.L.D. nerds walking into the coffee shop he’d been waiting in for, like said - three weeks.
Which was good, because people were getting nervous about him constantly being present.
“Pardon - double—-” he begun, as if stepping up to order - only to knock this guy’s coffee over. “—-Oh, mon dieu! I’m sorry, ‘m sorry—-” was continued; whip out the accent. Guys loved the accent. “C’mon, let me—-” Cue taking his shirt off, leaving nothing but the sleeveless wifebeater.
Really, though - he was very organized of a con artist, one had to admit.
“Really, ‘m sorry, lemme—- Lemme pay fer a new coffee, please? Double! Double coffees. You’ll get two. Or three! If ya like, God, just lemme make this up fer ya. C’mon, please—- Get this guy another coffee, ‘s on me, ‘s all on me. Toss a muffin in. Ya got any allergies?”
And this left him maybe a minute to chat the guy up. To hasten the process, his shades were taken off. Hey, people were usually pretty weak for his eyes - and the smile. That wide, charming smile he then flashed. A hint of an apology visible.
“‘M Remy,” He introduced himself, letting out a faint chuckle. “Really, I’m—- I’m sorry. I get nervous ‘round, well. Tattoos.”
Newton wasn’t one to visit the coffee shop close to SHIELD often, or any coffee shop really. Or anywhere else either, if he was really honest with himself. But one couldn’t just survive on the instant coffee that the machines provided, both at home and his workplace. Granted, the one at home was of a better quality and tasted better, maybe that was just because it was from home, probably not, because he actually did research on affordable coffee machines. So, once a month, or two months, or a week, it all depended on his schedule and his mood, he would stop by to pick up a random coffee from the menu. He didn’t have a usual, wasn’t even regular enough for one, just tended to stick to the special they had that month, week, day, season, whatever.
So happened he decided that today was one of those days, he’d woke up early and figured it was a good time to have it in, instead of taking his morning beverage on the go. Newt had ordered a double espresso, and a chocolate donut to go with it. Of course the coffee had to take time so he returned to his seat and meddled with his phone for a short while, typing out details which he remembered he forgot to put in his report about that new alien species yesterday.
He took a while to realise that the barista had called his name, too engrossed in his work. Newt got out of his seat, rolled his sleeves up a bit and moved to collect the espresso under his name. He didn’t expect, however, for a taller man to bump into him, spilling the hot liquid over his white shirt, soaking it in brown, and therefore scalding him.
“Jesus — ”
Newt’s first instinct was to release the coffee cup back onto the table. It clattered onto the counter, spilling whatever remaining liquid onto the mahogany. He was rather thankful that he wasn’t carrying his notes around with him like he was so used to. As it was his documents were in his bag and on a seat for once. He would have killed the man if his papers had been damaged. As it was, only his favourite shirt had taken the blunt of the damage.
A deep frown was etched onto his face, and looked back up in an attempt to voice his irritation. Newton did not get very far however, what with the man apologising profusely, and suddenly taking his shirt off to dab at the stain that was bound to stay. It was the thought that counted though.
The man, with his rich Cajun accent, offered to pay for more coffee, and a muffin, which just left Newt dumbfounded. No one was that kind anymore, probably all he would have gotten in a situation like this was an apology and probably something simple to compensate the shirt. His tattoos? They didn’t look that scary… It wasn’t like gang tattoos, but perhaps aliens freaked the guy out. The man seemed to babble just as much as he did, and reminded him of himself. Newt would have done pretty much the same, having a lack of social life or skills made one talk excessively. It would have been irritating to anyone but him. Newt gave the man, Remy apparently, a smile.
“No… really it’s fine. Not much harm done. It’s fine really.” He returned, as a barista came towards them with a mop and some serviettes to help with the cleaning process. “Let’s sit down, don’t want to hinder them doing their jobs.” Newt gestured to his seat, and figured that he could probably get changed back home later, or something…
“I’m Newt.” He added, as an afterthought, only fair that he returned the favour after all.
I never really gave up on Breakin’ out of this two star town I got the green light, I got a little fight I’m gonna turn this thing around Can you read my mind? Can you read my mind?
Everyone is born with numbers on their wrists counting down to the second their life changes, and when those numbers reach
But there was a catch, numbers jump and change and shift as fate saw fit.
At the age of 35, Newton Geiszler was not one of those who was vehemently against such a notion, but neither was he desperate and based his whole life on that one moment that would eventually come (if he didn’t die before that).
There were after all, more important matters at hand. Namely, the Kaiju threat that the scientist had become enamoured with. Of course, Newt was still sane enough to want them gone, but he had a fascination for them that resulted in him excelling in his work.
Then, at the age of 35, not knowing that his timer had already counted down to 00:00:00, while having a discussion with his colleagues and superior, Newt meets a Cajun who would end up changing his life forever.
