That's plenty, [ Remus tags on, looking surprised in his closed-off, trying-not-to-look-surprised way for a second time. Half the surprise comes from being given the benefit of the doubt; Remus isn't as unaccustomed to that as he might have been, in another life where what he is wasn't such a closely held secret, but he still never takes it for granted, even when he isn't sitting next to an admitted fugitive, making unprovable claims about false imprisonment and Dark wizards, to people from seventy years in the past, on a foreign planet, over tea.
The other half comes from realising he'd misread Scamander, underestimated his willingness to break rank. But he's hardly disappointed to have been wrong. On the tail of that absence-of-surprise comes a small smile that's so relieved it borders on confused. ]
Thank you.
[ So as not to leave anyone out, he looks up again. ]
And you, Ms Goldstein. When [ not if, surely when ] Dumbledore or our friends are awake, we'll be able to clear it up once and for all. Just as long as no one attempts to do anything in the meantime that can't be undone.
[ Translation: please don't take it upon yourself to kill my friend.
And an oblique addition to that translation, carried only in how confidently pleasant he sounds: because if you try, we'll put up a fight, and we're really very good.
But, undertones aside, he is entirely sincere about the gratitude. An agreement to unite against Grindlewald or their Voldemort is something worth thanks. The implicit accompanying agreement not to take what anyone else may say about Sirius at face value, anymore than she's taking what they say as the truth now—that's something as well. Preventing Goldstein from someday coming straight at Sirius with a wand and an Auror's sense of authoritative justice, based solely on someone else's hysterical screaming, was the only thing Remus had ever genuinely hoped to get out of this conversation. Everything else is a bonus.
Looking back at Sirius, sipping tea, Remus raises his eyebrows, up and then down, like a pleased sort of shrug with his face. This certainly could be going worse. ]
I'd like to hear more about Grindlewald sometime, if it's a story you wouldn't mind telling. We learned a bit in school, but our professor was... [ He pauses, trying now to find a way around saying anything to imply that events that are likely still painful or frightening to Goldstein and Scamander would someday be reduced to a droning history lesson that put sixteen-year-olds to sleep. But it's too late. The sentence isn't salvageable. So he abandons it entirely, eyes lighting on the bag they'd brought into the kitchen with them instead. ] Have we interrupted your dinner plans?
no subject
The other half comes from realising he'd misread Scamander, underestimated his willingness to break rank. But he's hardly disappointed to have been wrong. On the tail of that absence-of-surprise comes a small smile that's so relieved it borders on confused. ]
Thank you.
[ So as not to leave anyone out, he looks up again. ]
And you, Ms Goldstein. When [ not if, surely when ] Dumbledore or our friends are awake, we'll be able to clear it up once and for all. Just as long as no one attempts to do anything in the meantime that can't be undone.
[ Translation: please don't take it upon yourself to kill my friend.
And an oblique addition to that translation, carried only in how confidently pleasant he sounds: because if you try, we'll put up a fight, and we're really very good.
But, undertones aside, he is entirely sincere about the gratitude. An agreement to unite against Grindlewald or their Voldemort is something worth thanks. The implicit accompanying agreement not to take what anyone else may say about Sirius at face value, anymore than she's taking what they say as the truth now—that's something as well. Preventing Goldstein from someday coming straight at Sirius with a wand and an Auror's sense of authoritative justice, based solely on someone else's hysterical screaming, was the only thing Remus had ever genuinely hoped to get out of this conversation. Everything else is a bonus.
Looking back at Sirius, sipping tea, Remus raises his eyebrows, up and then down, like a pleased sort of shrug with his face. This certainly could be going worse. ]
I'd like to hear more about Grindlewald sometime, if it's a story you wouldn't mind telling. We learned a bit in school, but our professor was... [ He pauses, trying now to find a way around saying anything to imply that events that are likely still painful or frightening to Goldstein and Scamander would someday be reduced to a droning history lesson that put sixteen-year-olds to sleep. But it's too late. The sentence isn't salvageable. So he abandons it entirely, eyes lighting on the bag they'd brought into the kitchen with them instead. ] Have we interrupted your dinner plans?