It was amazing how exposure to this sort of thing so frequently actually started to whittle down the reflexes. It seemed there did come a point when the body just threw up its metaphorical hands because there wasn't any use in getting flustered. It took far less effort to recline back and allow whatever may happen to just happen. Except for the jostling of the bed beneath as Meteor Sirius struck into it, Remus remained quite still, and though his hands slid down in defeat, he found himself unwilling to rise even as he heard his name called out.
"'Lo, Sirius. James." came the reply after an inward struggle to not immediately cry out about how Madam Pince would have his skin for what was likely bent pages and dented corners on the displaced books. "Wish I knew what was going on to tell you, but I'm afraid you'll have to ask Sirius."
Remus shifted uneasily, pulling a light grimace and staring, now fixedly, somewhere above Peter's bed as Sirius's weight dipped the mattress enough to change the view. "And, Sirius, your foot is jabbing into my side, by the way. Rather uncomfortable."