By the time Remus had turned back towards Sirius, his blood was already boiling. The sheer heat of his being almost seemed to cloud his judgement and in that, Remus couldn't process Sirius' words further than to the fact that they<span style="font-style: italic">stung</span>. Sirius' worry came across as seeing weakness in Remus, and the mere insinuation made him snap back.<br/>"Are<span style="font-style: italic">you</span>daft?" he countered, pettily. Sirius was venturing into a line of argument he knew little about and whatever assumptions Sirius made about the pack felt like they should apply to Remus, too. "Do you think<span style="font-style: italic">they're</span>going to be in any better shape than me?"<br/>The words<span style="font-style: italic">they're werewolves and so am I</span>rung in Remus' pause. He clenched his jaw, still staring Sirius down. Moody had shared what he knew about the pack and Remus was tempted to spit it all out if only to prove a point. "You don't know what you're talking about. I know you've gotten a habit of taking pity with me, but I can assure you, by werewolf standards I'm doing stellar."<br/>Remus regretted his words even before finishing the sentence, and, for a blink of an eye, that was evident in his expression before the pent up anger of the moon yet again replaced it.