[ The sight of them, Hermann thinks, and their unceremonious way of attempting to get to the entrance must be embarrassingly laughable, especially when he fumbles to get the door open all while keeping himself and Newt propped up. It’s a miracle that they don’t fall over, really.

Once inside, he promptly detaches himself from the other and reaches for the towel he had kept folded on a nearby surface. His intention was to merely toss it to Newt, but when he whirls around to meet him, Hermann pauses with the towel still enveloped in his fingers.

He looks at Newt with the sort of disapproval that a parent might have when their child stumbles into the house hours past curfew. His eyes are narrowed into a glare, and his mouth is pressed into a thin, tight line. Somehow, his expression manages to contort with even more annoyance as he fully takes in Newt’s state of being, noting his slouched posture, his disarrayed hair, his clothes that are seemingly soaked through, and, if he’s not mistaken, there’s a hint of beer in the air.

A lecture is heavy on his tongue, and it is overflowing into the rest of his mouth, filling up empty spaces and pressing up against his cheeks. There’s a lot he’d like to say to Newt at this moment, a lot that he’d like to complain about. However, when his mouth opens, the intended words dissolve into a sigh. As he exhales, his features soften, and while the annoyance is still evident, there are hints of relief. ]

Do you see what you’ve done? I’m all wet now because of you. [ Again, the annoyance exists, but his tone lacks bite. His own comment also reminds him to finally hand Newt the towel. ]

Come, let me take you to your room before you get yourself into more trouble.