From where he was in the kitchen, Sirius heard Vera turn on the TV. He was too engrossed in a journal article Remus had asked him to read to engage her in conversation at that moment. When he finished reading about the latest development toward curing lycanthropy (and the notes Remus had made in the margins and on a stray sheet of paper), he added a few of his own then closed the magazine with a sigh. He was as frustrated as Remus with the sheer stupidity of researchers who insisted on perpetuating stereotypes instead of looking past them to find an actual cure. The fact was, after living (and being intimate) with a lycanthrope for so long, Sirius could have told the researchers a thing or two or fifty.
It sounded like Vera was talking to someone, so Sirius got up and went into the living room to see if Gilbert had deigned to come downstairs voluntarily. Upon seeing what Vera had on and hearing her comment about how the killer was doing something wrong, he said, "It's not about accuracy in those movies, you know. It's all about how much blood they can fictitiously spill." He sat down on the couch beside her and sat back before realisation set in. "Damn. I should have brought the crisps in with me."