Accustomed to his mother's dramatics, Sirius didn't bat an eye at her accusation. As so many insults before and likely in future to come, this one rolled right over waterproofed feathers, leaving nary a dent in weathered armor.
"No. And I have a healer's note to prove it, do you wish to see?" Walburga would be wise to answer no, but if she indeed answered yes, Sirius' two-fingered salute was on standby.
Guiding Emmeline further into the room, Sirius offered her a nearby seat before crossing to pick up the bottle of wine. He read the dusty label with arched eyebrows; Kreacher had dug deep for this selective vintage. The house elf was smarter than he let on, but that didn't soften Sirius' heart to the vile being. The spare empty glasses, on the the hand... Definately smarter than Kreacher let on.
Topping up his mother's glass first, Sirius then poured for Emmeline, and finally himself. "Like it or not, I married the love of my life last weekend. She thought you deserved to be informed face to face, seeing as how you are, biologically speaking, my mother... I told her you'd probably have Kreacher tear our eyes balls out and string them up with your pearls but... Here we are all the same."