Remus keeps his attention on the pancakes, even as Sirius wanders away from his shoulder. He finds that the sudden removal of that warmth almost unsettling, the cool flat air replacing it as swiftly as it had come. In a cheeky display of solidarity, however, Remus raises a hand to float the plate over, if only so he can easily flip the cooked pancake onto it.
He listens intently while Sirius speaks, shown in the careful furrow of his brow, the occasional, thoughtful twist of his lips, the glances made in the direction of his friend leaning on the fridge. He's methodical when he pours the next round of batter, swirling it carefully into the pan, letting the batter hiss against the hot surface.
Taking in a slow breath, he collects the plate and crosses the small and reaches for one of Sirius's wrists, tugging his hand up if allowed, pressing the plate into it. "If I had to guess at rumors in the dark, I doubt Peter betrayed Voldemort, but that everything he did was part of their dark plan. For all his cowardice, Peter played a long and terrible game, and we were all caught in the crossfire, weren't we? It's some miracle that you exchanged roles as Secret Keeper. I suppose he'd had us in check, and that was the checkmate."
There are dozens of outcomes in chess, and to think that Peter could still be alive somewhere does linger in the back of his mind. After all, if he was able to carry out such a conniving plan, Remus has no doubt that there's more to the death than meets the eye. A small, warning voice gently reminds him there wasn't a body, but it makes his throat tighten uncomfortably. That thought, he decides, needs more time.
"Eat, before it goes cold," he says softly before he turns back to the stove top to flip the second pancake. He considers the information about this place, however, and when he raises his head to look at Sirius, he smiles. "I think my first task will be to find a book shop. Every city has its history, and that might be an excellent route to helping whatever little resistance is building. It all felt quite sterile to me. The arrival, the orientation. The job and the flat. If there is anything I've learned in my time on these blasted missions it's that good things don't come without a price, no matter who pays it."
Instead of flipping the newly cooked pancake onto a new plate, he actually floats the steaming hotcake to Sirius's plate instead. "Do you have more questions?" He asks offhandedly, no matter how pointed the question is, as he starts a third pancake, this one for himself. "Though I suppose you know the answers to most things as it is."
no subject
He listens intently while Sirius speaks, shown in the careful furrow of his brow, the occasional, thoughtful twist of his lips, the glances made in the direction of his friend leaning on the fridge. He's methodical when he pours the next round of batter, swirling it carefully into the pan, letting the batter hiss against the hot surface.
Taking in a slow breath, he collects the plate and crosses the small and reaches for one of Sirius's wrists, tugging his hand up if allowed, pressing the plate into it. "If I had to guess at rumors in the dark, I doubt Peter betrayed Voldemort, but that everything he did was part of their dark plan. For all his cowardice, Peter played a long and terrible game, and we were all caught in the crossfire, weren't we? It's some miracle that you exchanged roles as Secret Keeper. I suppose he'd had us in check, and that was the checkmate."
There are dozens of outcomes in chess, and to think that Peter could still be alive somewhere does linger in the back of his mind. After all, if he was able to carry out such a conniving plan, Remus has no doubt that there's more to the death than meets the eye. A small, warning voice gently reminds him there wasn't a body, but it makes his throat tighten uncomfortably. That thought, he decides, needs more time.
"Eat, before it goes cold," he says softly before he turns back to the stove top to flip the second pancake. He considers the information about this place, however, and when he raises his head to look at Sirius, he smiles. "I think my first task will be to find a book shop. Every city has its history, and that might be an excellent route to helping whatever little resistance is building. It all felt quite sterile to me. The arrival, the orientation. The job and the flat. If there is anything I've learned in my time on these blasted missions it's that good things don't come without a price, no matter who pays it."
Instead of flipping the newly cooked pancake onto a new plate, he actually floats the steaming hotcake to Sirius's plate instead. "Do you have more questions?" He asks offhandedly, no matter how pointed the question is, as he starts a third pancake, this one for himself. "Though I suppose you know the answers to most things as it is."