When Remus had looked away, he had done so in search of an exit, both out of the bar, and the situation. His stomach was in knots, a nauseous reminder as to why he didn’t spend time in the club, steadying himself for a sour shift in the balance between them. No visible distinction between his work and his leisure, it seemed that Remus’ mere presence could be interpreted as an invitation, but the question had taken him aback with such force he felt like a dreadful reality had finally caught up to him; that this was the consequence of Sirius<span style="font-style: italic">knowing</span>.<br/>Though Remus felt a million things at once, it couldn’t have been more than a second, for when Sirius’ spoke and Remus’ attention was recaptured, he saw no sign of malice in his expression. A smile remained at his lips, and his dismissal felt sincere, and once again, Remus felt without a foot to stand on, his heart in his throat.<br/>It was the first time anyone had expressed any interest in sticking around when Remus had rejected their advances, and as he watched Sirius leave to get him another drink, he realized the sinking feeling he felt was regret.