"Oh yes. It is," Remus chuckled. He had a feeling this was definitely a case of a generational gap they weren't going to be able to bridge anytime soon.
"First thing Moody taught us when we joined the Order -- no matter how detailed the plan, you'll end up winging it before you're through." And how true the Auror's words had been. Saved Remus' arse more than once even after he'd left England.
Shaking his head fondly, he used the butterbeer bottle to point as one might wag a finger in warning. "Floo is just fine. Plenty of time for you to expend the energy later."
You two aren't the only ones skilled at evasion, Remus thought, covering his own self-deprecating smirk by taking another swig from his drink. More than once he'd been accused of using his open demeanor to mask his true feelings. "It is strange and you did help. Sometimes we both need a bit of prodding to talk about something rather than let it fester."
Though he could see clearly for himself the truth behind James' words in the way the younger man was hovering, the way was so protective, Remus merely smiled at the admission. He could see these two friends of his, one old and dear the other new and growing dear, cared for each other. It made him happy to see it. Maybe because his condition made him predisposed to take affection where it could be found, he didn't even stop to consider any of the details others might find objection in.
"Sure you can," he countered, keeping the commentary dry despite the softened smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It's called making up."