Nor had Newt done anything of the sort for Tina, but find each other they have. He supposes someone might consider that to be a thing called fate. He's never really believed in that sort of thing, honestly. He wasn't inspecting the woods, so much as trying to ascertain what might offer a way out, or things that could possibly be used for supplies and the like.

"Yes, it's me," he offers, looking back and forth at the forest floor, before casting a quick glance up at her.

"I suppose. I don't much care for the village. I only drop in if I've gathered too much food for just myself." He's not very good at things like this. Social situations. He finds it odd and cumbersome. Cues don't come as easily to him as they do to others. Still, he stays, and that means something.

"You look well."