There's another shift from Sirius at the mention of Regulus. It has Voldemort's attention flickering inward a moment again. Means that there's no nervousness within or without as she starts to move towards where the horcrux is. The snake shifts a little more beneath the couch, hiding comfortably in the shadows. She wouldn't think to look, surely. Doesn't know what to look for, likely. Otherwise he'd be properly dead by now. Fools.
There are hints of the kind of life Sirius has been leading here along the way-- Alcohol bottles in various states of emptiness. A table that looked as though the contents formerly atop it had been hurriedly pushed off or simply knocked aside. Burnt out blunts left anywhere a pair of high wizards may think to leave them. The thing that looks like Sirius doesn't give off any indication of shame-- hasn't even bothered to hide the fading hickies visible on his neck and lower.
"I should have owled," he states as he follows Lily as sedately as possible. He figures that's an appropriate enough response. "But I wanted a clean break. It was-- too much, after the war."
That might almost sound honest. It's almost the truth, after all, cobbled together by what Merdraut could glean and pass along from intoxicated confession and the news and what memories Voldemort has managed to coerce or rip out of Sirius' psyche.
It's not enough to know that while saying "So, you see, it's why I-- wish you hadn't come" is true, it absolutely isn't what Sirius Black would have started with.
(He'd managed that much, at least. He'd had to surrender the broader picture-- the emotional responses, the words and the attitude. Had managed, at least, to keep that which would have fooled those who knew him best clutched close to himself. It would be something, he'd hoped.)
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There are hints of the kind of life Sirius has been leading here along the way-- Alcohol bottles in various states of emptiness. A table that looked as though the contents formerly atop it had been hurriedly pushed off or simply knocked aside. Burnt out blunts left anywhere a pair of high wizards may think to leave them. The thing that looks like Sirius doesn't give off any indication of shame-- hasn't even bothered to hide the fading hickies visible on his neck and lower.
"I should have owled," he states as he follows Lily as sedately as possible. He figures that's an appropriate enough response. "But I wanted a clean break. It was-- too much, after the war."
That might almost sound honest. It's almost the truth, after all, cobbled together by what Merdraut could glean and pass along from intoxicated confession and the news and what memories Voldemort has managed to coerce or rip out of Sirius' psyche.
It's not enough to know that while saying "So, you see, it's why I-- wish you hadn't come" is true, it absolutely isn't what Sirius Black would have started with.
(He'd managed that much, at least. He'd had to surrender the broader picture-- the emotional responses, the words and the attitude. Had managed, at least, to keep that which would have fooled those who knew him best clutched close to himself. It would be something, he'd hoped.)