[ When Tommy ran off with not even a brb, leaving Newt to watch, and unable to actually case after him. Newt was beyond pissed. He'd headed into the forest without anyone else and with no bugging explanation - of course Newt was smart enough to put two and two together to make the shuckiest four.
Nothing got done whilst Tommy was gone, Newt stood guard by the gate, working on crank control, killing the ones that showed up and helping the other move the bodies out of the way. His main attention is on the forest past the ruins. Anger wells up in him when he sees that familiar Glader break into view, and if it weren't for the second familiar Glader that was next to him, Newt might have headed over there to greet them... For some reason he couldn't bring his feet to move until they were in earshot.
The branch that he'd turned into a makeshift spear is in his hand as he headed towards them, the expression on his face unreadable for the moment until his hand surged forward, shoving Thomas back as his bad leg swiped at his legs, causing the runner to go down fairly easily. Without sparing Minho so much as a glance, he jabbed the butt of the spear into Thomas's abdomen, mindful to keep it away from where he knew would cause more pressure against the healing wound on his back. Anger. Anger was written all over his face as he spat out a scolding about leaving into the forest alone.
When he was done with Thomas dark eyes then found Minho again, softening almost immediately and looking at him with guilt. He'd thought it would be impossible to save him. Everything itched in him to hug him, or reach out and do something. A smile and a "good to see ya," was all he could come out with but the look he gave afterward was probably enough for Minho to know he had more to say later. Minho would hate him if he'd known that he hadn't a damn clue what to do when he'd been taken. If the roles had been switched, he was sure Minho would have known exactly what to do. He'd left then, not exactly giving him the warm welcome he'd prefer to - maybe when he was in a better mood. Spending most of a day stressing over Thomas and killing cranks kind of turns anyone foul.
Later comes faster than Newt had prepared for and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he bumps into Minho within the city, lost in thought. He's far too glad the shank isn't one of those ugly drooling things before it sinks in that he was really weird with him earlier. Swallowing, his eyebrows draw together in mild discomfort as he draws a hand up to chew at already blunted nails. ]
Settling in okay? This buggin' place gives me the creeps.
[ Bottling things up never hurt anyone, right.... Right? Hahahahaha. ]
SLAMS JEN TO THE GROUND TO GET TO YOU hello my sweet wildcardin' you a bit
Nothing got done whilst Tommy was gone, Newt stood guard by the gate, working on crank control, killing the ones that showed up and helping the other move the bodies out of the way. His main attention is on the forest past the ruins. Anger wells up in him when he sees that familiar Glader break into view, and if it weren't for the second familiar Glader that was next to him, Newt might have headed over there to greet them... For some reason he couldn't bring his feet to move until they were in earshot.
The branch that he'd turned into a makeshift spear is in his hand as he headed towards them, the expression on his face unreadable for the moment until his hand surged forward, shoving Thomas back as his bad leg swiped at his legs, causing the runner to go down fairly easily. Without sparing Minho so much as a glance, he jabbed the butt of the spear into Thomas's abdomen, mindful to keep it away from where he knew would cause more pressure against the healing wound on his back. Anger. Anger was written all over his face as he spat out a scolding about leaving into the forest alone.
When he was done with Thomas dark eyes then found Minho again, softening almost immediately and looking at him with guilt. He'd thought it would be impossible to save him. Everything itched in him to hug him, or reach out and do something. A smile and a "good to see ya," was all he could come out with but the look he gave afterward was probably enough for Minho to know he had more to say later. Minho would hate him if he'd known that he hadn't a damn clue what to do when he'd been taken. If the roles had been switched, he was sure Minho would have known exactly what to do. He'd left then, not exactly giving him the warm welcome he'd prefer to - maybe when he was in a better mood. Spending most of a day stressing over Thomas and killing cranks kind of turns anyone foul.
Later comes faster than Newt had prepared for and he nearly jumps out of his skin when he bumps into Minho within the city, lost in thought. He's far too glad the shank isn't one of those ugly drooling things before it sinks in that he was really weird with him earlier. Swallowing, his eyebrows draw together in mild discomfort as he draws a hand up to chew at already blunted nails. ]
Settling in okay? This buggin' place gives me the creeps.
[ Bottling things up never hurt anyone, right.... Right? Hahahahaha. ]