The declaration, however much of a matter of speech, made Remus’ smile widen, the flush of intoxication making it that much more of a treat.<br/>Any comment on it, however, was interrupted. The movement of Sirius’ reaching for his cigarettes diverted Remus’ attention, almost instinctively propelling him out of his chair. Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, Remus retrieved a paper box of matches. Without waiting for Sirius to ask the question, he offered it himself.<br/>He struck the match, taking half a step closer to Sirius, his free hand thoughtlessly raised as if to protect the flame from wind - or, perhaps more logical, from catching on Sirius’ hair.<br/>“Rest of the year, really,” Remus eventually corrected, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth. It was nothing more than a teased return of Sirius’ own correction, and when Remus’ eyes finally left Sirius’ lips to meet his gaze, there was a boyish glint in his eyes.