QUEENIE: "Teenie -- you brought men home?"

QUEENIE (unconcerned): "Oh, sure --"

The group enters the Goldstein apartment.

She runs her wand up the dummy and the dress runs magically up her body. Jacob watches the display, dumbfounded.

Blond Queenie, the most beautiful girl ever to don witches' robes, is standing in a silk slip, supervising the mending of a dress on a dressmaker's dummy. Jacob is thunderstruck.

INT. GOLDSTEIN RESIDENCE, SITTING ROOM -- DUSK

Tina, frustrated, starts tidying the apartment.

TINA: "Gentlemen, this is my sister. You want to put something on, Queenie?"

Although impoverished, the apartment is enlivened by workaday magic. An iron is working away on its own in a corner, and a clotheshorse revolves clumsily on its wooden legs in front of the fire, drying an assortment of underwear. Magazines are scattered around: The Witch's Friend, Witch Chat, and Transfiguration Today.

Newt barely notices. Impatient to leave as soon as possible, he starts peeking out the windows.

QUEENIE: "So, who are they?"

TINA: "He's sick -- it's a long story -- Mr. Scamander has lost something, I'm going to help him find it."

QUEENIE (suddenly worried): "A No-Maj? Teen -- what are you up to?"

QUEENIE (impressed): "He's a criminal?"

Newt is watching Queenie from his spot by the window, his scientific attention now aroused.

Jacob suddenly staggers, very sweaty and unwell. Queenie runs to him as Tina hovers, also worried.

QUEENIE (as Jacob falls back onto a sofa): "You need to sit down, honey. Hey --" (reading his mind) "And --" (reading his mind) "-- aw, that's rough," (reading his mind) "-- he didn't get the money he wanted for his bakery. You bake, honey? I love to cook."

TINA: "That's Mr. Scamander. He's committed a serious infraction of the National Statute of Secrecy --"

QUEENIE: "Uh-huh, yeah. But I always have trouble with your kind. Brits. It's the accent."

TINA: "-- uh-huh, and this is Mr. Kowalski, he's a No-Maj --"

NEWT: "You're a Legilimens?"

QUEENIE: "Aw, don't worry, honey. Most guys think what you was thinking, first time they see me."

JACOB (cottoning on, appalled): "You know how to read minds?"

QUEENIE (artless): "Hey, Mr. Scamander, you prefer pie or strudel?"

Tina stares at Newt: Confrontational, but also disappointed and hurt.

Tina and Queenie busy themselves in the kitchen. Ingredients come floating out of cupboards as Queenie enchants them into the components of a meal -- carrots and apples chop themselves, pastry rolls itself, and pans stir.

QUEENIE: "Now, you need food."

QUEENIE: "Not a very wholesome lunch."

Tina points her wand at the cupboards. Dishes, assorted cutlery, and glasses come flying out, setting themselves on the table with a little prodding from Tina's wand. Jacob, half-fascinated, half-terrified, staggers toward the table.

ANGLE ON NEWT, his hand on the doorknob.

TINA: "Don't read my mind!"

Newt looks out the window and sees a Billywig fly past -- he's nervous, impatient to get out and find his creatures.

All look at Newt, who, embarrassed, removes his hand from the doorknob.

NEWT: "I really don't have a preference."

QUEENIE (to Tina): "Hot dog… again?"

Queenie playfully gestures toward Jacob with her wand.

QUEENIE (reading Jacob's mind): "You prefer strudel, huh, honey? Strudel it is."

Jacob is already seated at the table, tucking his napkin into his shirt.

Jacob nods with excited enthusiasm. Queenie grins back, delighted.

With a flick of her wand, Queenie sends raisins, apples, and pastry flying into the air. The concoction neatly wraps itself up into a cylindrical pie, baking on the spot, complete with ornate decoration and a dusting of sugar. Jacob takes a deep breath in: Heaven.

Tina lights candles on the table -- the meal is ready.

FOCUS ON NEWT'S POCKET -- a small squeak, and Pickett pokes his head out, curious.

Newt, still hovering near the door, looks somewhat charmed by the situation. Jacob glares at him subtly, willing him to sit down.

TINA: "Well, sit down, Mr. Scamander, we're not going to poison you."