Rabastan nodded. At least he knew that if Bellatrix never really loved Rodolphus, she never would have been able to love him. No witch Rabastan would have wanted that was even remotely close to Bellatrix would have loved him.
His desire to be with Bellatrix was probably just the desire he had to be loved by a woman, to be treated like a king--to have someone at his beck and call. Rabastan was tense in many different ways, sexual frustration being very high on his list. The fact that he had very few encounters was not exactly unknown, but his friends were not foolish enough to talk about it.
"You deserved the best and I hope you feel as though my brother has been good enough to walk beside you all these years." Rabastan frowned on his own fate and knew his emotional state the last few minutes is a result of Azkaban. Too much free time opened up what he held inside for so long. At some point, those thoughts and emotions broke the floodgates. He needed to control it as much as possible. Reaching into his pocket, Rabastan took out another vile--a vile to control his anxiety and blood pressure.
He took a tart from the tray. The conversation grew incredibly awkward. He downed the vial, licked his lips, and put it back in his pocket. The tart was just for substance because he had to take his potions with food. "How much hope and faith do you have left, Bellatix?"