Chapter Text
"What is that infernal whirring?" Hermanns snaps the moment he steps through the door. "I could hear it from down the hallw- are those bubbles?" He stares at the soapy orbs that seem to have invaded the entire lab.
"I found an old bubble machine in the closet!" Newt says enthusiastically, emerging from the plethora of bubbles that have gathered near his work table, where the aforementioned machine rests.
Hermann swats away an errant bubble that floats too close to his head.
"I will not be able to work in such an environment," he grits out. "Please turn it off." He most certainly does not momentarily reconsider upon seeing the magnificent pout on Newton's face. After a moment, he adds: "And what was a bubble machine doing in here, anyway?"
Newt shrugs and begrudgingly turns off the machine. "Probably from when they could actually celebrate victories, I guess."
Hermann huffs out a humourless laugh and gets to work.
---
Newt leaves the lab early, citing "extreme starvation" and "too few bubbles" as his reasons.
Hermann works happily in silence for half an hour before he stops and stares at the chalkboard. Something is amiss. He glances behind him to Newt's unoccupied half of the lab. Without the usual noises his lab partner makes, with all his puttering around and humming to old 90s music, the space is far too quiet. He side-eyes the accursed bubble machine and sighs.
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Newt finds Hermann still in the lab at 11pm, trying to figure out how to pour bubble solution into the machine. They decide never to speak of it again.