Newt is good at not only reading animals and other creatures, but people as well. While he may not choose to spend the bulk of his time with people, it doesn't mean he doesn't understand certain things. Even though Finnick turns to look at him, he can still read the tense posture and the preparation to defend oneself if necessary.

He stays where he is, waiting for permission to approach, and gives a nod as he moves over, careful to project his movements as to ease the man's discomfort some. At least, he hopes it offers a reprieve, and shows he's no threat.

"They do, don't they?" Newt smiles gently as he says it, and hunkers down next to the man so that he might get a better look at the chick. "The males don't start to get their color until about six months old."

He looks toward Finnick, not meeting his gaze, but giving over his attention. "Have you named him yet? Or her?"