Remus was, admittedly, surprised by the blazing look she'd given him, and noted the color of her hair in an instant. A terrible, guilty feeling churned in his stomach, one that no amount of whiskey would numb. Time seemed to stop for a moment, and he debated leaving. Perhaps it would be better just to go. In fact, every cell in his body was urging him to leave, and yet he found himself rising to his feet and dragging himself across the pub, towards the table she occupied.
He wasn't sure what to say, or what she'd want to hear. If she even wanted to hear him, and he wouldn't blame her if she didn't. Part of him hoped that she'd send him away; it would be infinitely easier. In spite of that, he needed to know that she was getting on all right. He may be a coward, but he wanted her safe. His child needed to be safe.
His eyes soaked her appearance in for a long moment. Her face was shadowed and she obviously hadn't been sleeping well. Knowing that he was responsible for that--and he hoped that he was the one responsible and that she'd not had trouble somewhere else--he met her eyes briefly and then gestured to an open seat.
"May I?" he asked hoarsely, and braced himself for her response.