it’s officially been a year and a half since you first arrived at the glade. well, somewhere around there, since staying up to date with months and years is considerably difficult here. newt is in the gardens, pulling out weeds and planting some of the seeds that came up in the last box. you’re leaning against a nearby tree, reading one of the few books they have here, leaning about how to make a tourniquet when newt speaks up, making some stupid comment about how you read “too much”, as if that’s possible. in response, you grab a handful of dirt and throw it at him. he covers his face with his hands, but dirt still gets all over him hey, what was that for? he questions with a slightly amused smile as he runs a hand through his blond hair, in an attempt to shake out some of the dirt