A bad night is staying too late and getting cleared off the street with water cannons at the end of Mardi Gras.

[ Seriously. ]

Or crying together on a rooftop at night far away from home 'cause you had to deliver some bad news to someone.

[ Sam inclines his head. ]

Good night is being up at 4am and making Sazerac together, sharing in insomnia and anxiety, 'cause that's how you love your friends.

[ He tugs the cigarette from Newt's lips gently, tucks it behind his hear instead. Cups the man's face with both hands and runs his thumbs over his cheeks. ]

Bad boyfriends keep you small. Blame their jealousy and control issues on you until you believe it's your fault. Go to punch you in the face. You didn't do a goddamn thing to that man. You didn't mess up. [ He shakes his head, holds Newt's eyes. ] You're not as small as he tried to keep you, Newt. You got so much fucking love in you, it's unbelievable. And you'll go on to save lives, and blast loud music, and proposition my best friend through emoji. You'll go on to become so invaluable to so many people who all love you so much better than that plastic bag blowing over your road.