As soon as the woman's screech hit Newt's ears, a spark of hope sent shivers down his spine. Just as he was about to fall off the edge of the windowsill, someone had come home. He couldn't believe his luck. Then he thought about what this situation probably looked like. Right as he began to try to think up a way to explain what he would be doing hanging out of this woman's bathroom window, a head poked out of the open window.

"Who are you and what are you doing?"

As soon ask Newt heard the question, he knew he wouldn't have any time to respond. His fingers, as they got colder, lost more and more grip. In a panic, he just responded, "I'll explain everything later, for now, could you help me back up?"

The woman stared at him for a moment, seeming to contemplate her options. Mostly, she just really didn't know what to do. Of course, she was going to help him, but so many thoughts clogged up her head, her movements were delayed. What was this man doing hanging from her windowsill? How did he get into her apartment? What were his intentions?

As she saw his fingers begin to slip, all her thoughts cleared out of her head at once, and she reached for his hands. With a loud gasp, she couldn't believe her luck as she grabbed his hands right as he lost traction with her window. His hands felt like ice, cold to the point she almost let go to warm her own up again. Resisting what was her reflex, she began to pull up, which didn't seem to be helping, she wasn't as strong as she'd like to think she was.

In the meantime, Newt seemed to be dazed and distracted. He knew this definitely wasn't the time or place to be thinking about this, but this woman had such pretty eyes. He thought, in a short burst, that she was very beautiful, and if they had met differently, he might have made an attempt to at least talk to her.

But maybe he shouldn't be thinking about that when he was clinging onto her window ledge for his life.

The woman looked down at him in all her struggling, and she noticed he wasn't very aware of what was happening. He isn't going into some kind of cold shock, is he? She thought to herself, worried. "Hey, you!" she began to yell out. She wished she had his name so she didn't just have to call him 'you,' but right now wasn't the time to ask for names. "Are you okay? I need your help here, pull up the best you can!"

Newt snapped back into reality, back into the situation, back into clinging onto her hands for his life. Her hands are so warm, he thought to himself. They also seemed to be remarkably soft, to the point it was almost hard to keep a grip on her. "Hm?" He hummed in response, hearing what she said, but taking a moment to process it. "Oh, yeah, I'll try!" he shouted back to her.

Using what body strength he had left, he began to lift himself up slowly. He kind of wished he was a little stronger, but slowly, the two of them began to get Newt back into the apartment, no longer being suspended in the window. Once his entire upper body was in the apartment, she let go and Newt managed to get himself the rest of the way into the apartment.

They both caught their breath for a moment, still processing what happened. Newt was glad to be back in a decently warm apartment while she was still processing the fact she just pulled someone in through her bathroom window. As soon as she snapped back into her senses, she turned to the man who she just had to pull in through her window.

"Who are you?" she asked, looking him over. "And what are you doing in my apartment?"

Newt stood there for a moment, staring at the woman and then turning away, doing his usual of not making very clear eye contact. He began to contemplate his options. Yes, he could always tell her the truth, but since she was a Muggle (or a no-maj as they seemed to call them in the states), he would have to erase her memory anyways. There was no point on that. He could also just lie, which seemed like the reasonable option, except he didn't want to have to worry about him going to jail later.

So, he decided on neither option and went for something completely different.

He decided to run.

Breaking into a quick sprint, he grabbed his suitcase, which he had left on the bathroom counter, and ran as fast as his (nearly still numb from the cold) legs would carry him. He thought he heard a faint "Wait!" coming from the woman, but he didn't bother to turn around and check.

He was out of there in seconds. He dashed down the stairs, not knowing if the mysterious woman was following him or not, and too worried to check. Running away automatically made him look way guiltier than he really was, and he didn't want to take any chances.

Once he was out of the revolving door, he stopped for a moment to catch his breath – the second time he had to do so in the span of five minutes. He went to the side of the building and leaned against it, making sure he was out of the view of any Muggles before he opened his jacket and pulled his Niffler out. He looked straight into his eyes. "The things I go through for you," Newt sighed, opening his suitcase and putting him in. As the cold began to set in again, Newt shivered and closed his jacket. I should put Pickett in my case, he thought to himself. It's cold out, and it would be a lot better for him.

Newt reached up his sleeve, expecting to feel his fingers reach the little Bowtruckle, but to his surprise, they didn't. So, he reached up his other sleeve.

Still no Pickett.

Panic began to set in. Where could he have gone? Newt thought, but then, suddenly a thought hit him like a memory.

Pickett must have crawled up that woman's sleeve for better warmth.

Newt couldn't believe it. Pickett usually never left his side, but under the circumstances, it made a little sense. Imagining Pickett alone with the Muggle, who probably didn't even notice him, scared him a little. He always had abandonment issues, even when he thought Newt was really going to give him away, he didn't leave his side for too long in a fit before eventually returning.

Newt had to go back.