《 Skip a Beat 》

Toil and trouble

"Is this about the stakeout?" she asked quietly. Murmurs of conformation rippled around the table. Leta gave a somewhat withered smile. "Just... be careful, okay?" she said equally quietly.

A warm smile bloomed on Theseus' mouth, and he took her hand from across the table. "We'll be fine. Don't worry, okay?" he responded gently. Leta nodded, gazing at her hands clasped in his.

A sudden clatter rang out from behind the table, causing everyone to jump backwards and knock over the crockery.

"It's fine! It's fine!" shrieked Queenie, diving for her wand. She hastily cast spell after spell, enchanting the plates and bowls to fit together again.

Theseus pointed his wand at a tea towel fallen to the floor and it immediately picked itself up, swishing around the tiles and mopping up spilled crumbs.

Everyone murmured uncomfortably, returning to their seats.

"What was that?" asked Tina cautiously, eyeing everybody in the room suspiciously. Half-hearted shrugs and baffled expressions were the only answer she received.

"Pickett!" Newt cried suddenly. Five pairs of eyes whipped his way; The adult niffler was scrambling around on the tiles, smashing into cupboards and knocking over fallen cutlery, and perched on top of him, Pickett was clinging on for dear life to the niffler's fur, riding him with his spindly little bowtruckle legs flailing in the air behind him.

Amusement glinted in everybody's eyes for a second, then Newt's natural reflexes snapped into action, and he shot forward in an athletic slide to catch the mischievous pair.

Right before he remembered he was on crutches.

"Woah- NO!" Newt stood up, and his left leg immediately gave away, sending him toppling forward and shooting out his arms to brace himself.

A firm, lithe hand closed around his right arm and yanked him back, sending him stumbling backwards before slamming into his brother's firm chest. Newt looked up.

"Oof."

Theseus wasn't looking back at him, his eyes still fixed straight ahead. Newt followed his gaze.

Tina was standing a few steps away, cradling the niffler in one arm and Pickett dangling from a finger on her other one.

Newt felt heat rush to his cheeks. Had he fallen... again?

Tina bit her lip nervously. She looked up, catching Newt's eye.

What do I do?

Newt's mind flashed blank for a moment, so he tried offering her a what he hoped was an encouraging smile. Tina watched the bowtruckle regain his balance and stare at the ground, assessing, before looking up to meet her eyes.

Pickett quietly clicked twice, gazing at Tina as if expecting a similar reaction from her. Tina's grin grew slightly crooked- nervous, Newt realised with a vaguely wry smile.

She lifted her hand up, bringing Pickett closer to her face. "I'm sorry, Pickett. I don't speak bowtruckle. That's Newt's area of expertise."

Tina tentatively stepped closer to Newt before lifting her finger and watching Pickett hop onto Newt's shoulder. The niffler dutifully parked itself underneath his chair.

Newt offered her a lopsided smile, his cheeks still tinted pink. "Thank you."

Tina returned it, not trusting herself to say anything, for some reason. Leta spoke up for them.