Newt picked up one of the medium sized permanent markers they had been using for boxes and uncapped it with his teeth. He ran an open palm over Hermann's collarbone, tracing the ridge of bone up to his shoulder. As he stepped around to Hermann's side, then his back, Newt trailed his hand over a beautifully bare shoulder, grasping it, fingertips just brushing his throat, thumb tracing over the short buzzed hairs at the back of Hermann's neck.

"A reputation, huh? What is it? My wild parties? Tell me," he paused, waited for Hermann to supply his name. "What did you come here hoping for?"