Remus shifted, drawing one leg up between them to effectively straddle the sill, one leg dangling outside with a precarious confidence that came from alcohol and practice, a subtle proof that this wasn’t the first time he found himself seated there.<br/>Glancing up at Sirius as he gingerly took back the tin, Remus was surprised by the vulnerability of Sirius’ words. Remus hadn’t asked because he hadn’t expected an answer, but when Sirius offered it so freely, Remus simply nodded. He opened the tin between his spread thighs and did his best to retain the information despite the alcohol still flooding his veins.<br/>Remus had been fumbling with the grinder when Sirius continued, the phrasing making Remus’ jump, feeling surprisingly struck by it. It drew Remus’ eyes back up to Sirius, a clumsy apology already on his expression when he found that Sirius wasn’t looking at him.<br/>It made his throat close up.<br/>Remus wasn’t sure that he knew that about Sirius, still feeling to blame for how that interaction fell out, still caught in a loop of relief and regret for having rejected Sirius.<br/>This added context didn’t make those feelings any easier.<br/>“I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his gaze to his hands to continue. “What an arse.”