"Just you," Kavinsky said, soft and gentle and earnest. So earnest it hurt a little, because he still didn't really know what he was supposed to be seeing. Newt had told him bits and pieces of what the Flare was like, what it could do, but this--not only was it too sudden, too vicious, but it was all wrong in general.

He slid his fingers up Newt's arm slowly, smoothed his thumb against his shoulder. "It's just you, Newt. I don't--I don't know what this is. I don't know what's happening."