Black had snuck up on Remus, catching himself in straightening his posture, a thoughtless attempt to appear more composed. It was, if he was honest, not necessarily an invitation, but it became apparent that Black hadn’t really asked for one, anyway.<br/>“No,” Remus breathed regardless, slumping back into his chair. “Go ahead.”<br/>His eyes flickered to his material, as though the subtle change of perspective should reveal something. He was sick and tired of looking at it, was the truth, and he might have tossed it all into his bag and gone home, was he not suddenly overcome the urge to perform for an audience.<br/>He twirled his pen in his hand, restless.