James allowed Sirius to grab his arm and pull him back over the gap between them, slumping down on his other side. With a deep sigh (so much bloodg sighing!!) he let his head fall momentarily onto Padfoot's shoulder. When he lifted it, it was to peer across at Remus, silently weighing up his words.
He was right. Again. Obviously. James felt, not for the first time, a twist of guilt for even vaguely considering Remus might have been anything but his friend. It hadn't been a nice thought. It was the kind that came to you, unbidden, in the middle of the night when you were desperate and your brain wandered into dangerous territories. But even that was enough sometimes.
"It was a war. It all got...messy, I guess. Sorry, Remus," he said, quietly, and just really hoped the werewolf knew what he was apologising for. James turned his attention down to his hands, where his fingers were twisting in and out of each other in his lap. But he nodded at Sirius' words. "Right. No secrets. One for all and all for one, and all that."