"What do you mean I'm on the wrong boat?"

Newt was asking this question to the man who was taking his ticket. After examining it, the man had informed Newt that the boat he was supposed to get on departed an hour ago. He wasn't sure how he managed to misread his ticket, but his boat had in fact left half an hour ago, without him on it. The boat he was trying to board was on route to Iceland.

"Do you happen to know when the next boat I can take to England is then?" Newt asked, hoping he would get a good answer. Preferably he was hoping it would be later that day, but he's even settle if it was tomorrow.

"The next boat to England is in a weeks' time, sir."

A week? Newt exclaimed to himself in his head. He didn't want to wait that long. He was already longing to get back home and start polishing up what was left to write of his book. Surely, it couldn't be an entire week until the next boat comes, right? "Are you sure?" Newt began to ask. Usually he didn't like to question people when he knew they had the right answers, but he just couldn't accept the answer he got. "There aren't any earlier boats?"

"No, sorry to disappoint sir. You can try to go to the office and exchange your ticket for the next one, I'm sure they would understand."

No, he thought. I wanted to get on that boat. He sighed, giving in to his circumstance. "Alright," he said, sounding exasperated. "Thank you anyways."

"No problem." The man tipped his hat as Newt walked away from him. The cold December air had a chill running down his arms, and he wrapped himself tighter in his coat as he walked into the office, refunding his now useless ticket and getting himself a new one.

Newt sat himself down on a bench, beginning to think of where he should go. He thought he could go back to Porpentina's and Queenie's place, but then again, he didn't want to disturb them. The two girls deserved a rest after everything that happened this week. The chilly air spread to his neck, and he popped up his collar and reached for his case to get out his scarf...

... and that's when he noticed that it had been popped open. Again.

There was a gap just wide enough for his favorite escape artist to fit through.

He sighed and looked up and around, just in time to see his Niffler running around the corner, trying to get away from him to find something shiny.

No, no, no! Newt thought, getting up. The shut his case all the way and made sure it latched before he began to run after his Niffler, who always had a habit of escaping. It seemed anytime it saw an opportunity where Newt wasn't paying much attention, he'd find his way out of the case and run away, which usually ended in a drawn-out chase.

This time was no exception.

The Niffler made its way into a revolving door, allowing it to get into an apartment building that was a decent distance away from the dock. Newt ran in after it, first getting dizzy from one too many rounds in the revolving door before making it to the other side. When he regained stable vision, he watched as he saw a tail disappear up the stairs.

Oh, no you don't, Newt thought, beginning to chase it up the stairs. The Niffler always kept the same distance in front of him, and after a couple of flights, it caught him off guard as it turned the corner, heading into what Newt guessed to be someone's apartment.

Well, he was never one to stop there anyways.

Looking around to see if anybody was coming, Newt slipped into the apartment. As soon as he entered, he heard loud banging noises coming from another room. Following the noises, he found himself in a bathroom, where he saw his Niffler stuffing earrings into his pouch. "Got you!" Newt shouted, but he spoke too soon, because as he lunged for him, the Niffler avoided him by inches and walked over him, making it to the first escape: the bathroom window.

As the Niffler began to make its grand escape out the window, Newt managed to be just as fast this time, and he was half hanging out the window when he finally grabbed the Niffler by his tail. "Aha!" Newt shouted, happy he finally caught him.

Then something not as pleasant happened.

Newt felt his torso begin to slip as he sank further out the window. As fast as his reflexes would allow, he hid the Niffler in his coat as he whipped around and grabbed the windowsill. This all seemed to happen within seconds, but he still wasn't fast enough, and the next thing he knew he was hanging by his fingers from the window.

Well, this certainly isn't how I imagined this day going.

With all the body strength he could muster, Newt tried to pull himself up. His efforts, however, were futile. He couldn't get enough strength to pull himself back up. This is why I should get that case fixed, Newt thought to himself, shaking his head. The only beast he ever let out of the case was Pickett, his Bowtruckle, but Pickett never left his side. Pickett was on him now, inside his coat sleeve, trying to stay warm in cold. Newt wished he could do the same. His fingers got colder, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hang on to the window. He tried, once again, to lift himself up from the window, thinking maybe if he could just get half of his arm in the window, he could pull himself the rest of the way up from there-

That's the exact moment he heard a screech.

The owner of the home was back, and she didn't expect to see a pair of hands on her windowsill when she went to go to the bathroom.