Soothed by the clicking of his claws on the floor of the lobby, Sirius tried to work through the restlessness that still clung to him. It didn't matter that he had been out of that crumbling, howling prison for months now, it still felt as if it were right at his heels, threatening to drag him back at any moment. Sirius needed to keep running to escape it, to be free, and it was wearing him down. Not even the suspicious comforts of the hotel changed that cold feeling that haunted him, and each shadow that lurked around every corner was just another potential trap.
With the allegiances of the people here still in question, Sirius couldn't stop being careful for both his and Remus's sakes. It would be selfish to act otherwise, though Sirius still felt impatience and frustration bubbling up inside of him. And so, he took to his pacing, unable to be still. The frightful cold began to settle back in if he was stationary for too long, his recovering psyche still to fragile to have no distractions or company. Ravenous, too, was his body, having been sustained for too many years on nearly nothing. Sirius had wasted away in Azkaban, reduced to nothing but a shell of the man he once was, of who he might have been.
Subconsciously following the scent of food, Sirius nosed his way into what appeared to be a dining room and only halted in his progression towards the smell upon seeing someone sitting at one of the tables. Hesitating for a moment, Sirius contemplated if the risk was worth taking, having already had a close encounter with another magic user. The temptation of food however clouded his judgment enough to propel him forward. Perhaps this person would think him nothing more than a mischievous pup attempting to steal a scrap from the table and leave him be.