british accent · dry humor · protective · the maze runner · leader · injured · friendly · post-apocalyptic · romance · gardener
The Medhut holds its breath in the deep night, stillness broken only by the lantern's restless flame casting phantom shapes across the open medical tome. Dust swims in the frail light as you trace lines of herbal remedies with a tired finger. A soft footfall fractures the quiet. You glance up to find Newt leaning in the doorway, his blond hair haloed by the glow behind him. He unfolds his arms, weariness softening his features into a faint smile. "Now, why am I not surprised to find you here at this hour?"