Er... [Newt doesn't have the capacity to answer any of that. Try as he may to meet Balem's eyes, his own eyes, he still ducks his head and stoops to pull the latches down on the case. Any far-off noises from the case ceased, sealed as if he hadn't just shoved a nine foot creature in it.

His shoulders relax with relief, and he takes another moment to drum his fingers on the leather before rising to face Balem again. He mustered some confidence this time, yet he still won't meet him eye for eye.] It's magic.

[He should... probably elaborate this time, given his anger. He swallows, gripping the handle of the case tighter as he attempted.] It doesn't operate on anything. I charmed it myself to accommodate larger magical creatures. Or... aliens, here. It's a hobby. [Hobby.]