Who: Sirius and Regulus When: Monday Evening Where: The King's Pub, near Soho What: Really talking, for once Rating: Probably lots of swearing Status: Ongoing
Sirius would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous about seeing his brother; he couldn't remember the last time they'd had a civil conversation, let alone actually seen each other in person, and it was making him fidgety and antsy and feel all out of sorts. The whiskey he'd ordered was helping a little, at least to take the worst of the edge off, but it certainly wasn't helping enough. He knew he was being ridiculous - it was Regulus, for fuck's sake, and he might not even show, for all Sirius knew - but he couldn't help it. The conversation in the journal had rattled him badly, and he was stressing incessantly about the mysterious them had done to Regulus; had he meant their mother? The family? The purists? The Death Eaters? Neither option was a good one, and each train of thought lead Sirius down a path he didn't want to follow, knowing he wouldn't like the answer no matter what.
With a sigh he slumped forward at the table he was sitting at, near the bar so Regulus could spot him. The pub was dark and blessedly empty, save for two blokes down the other end of the room, and at least Sirius knew they could talk freely here without being interrupted (or worse.) If Regulus showed up, that was.