Upon being prompted, Sirius actually flipped his mother off. The gesture casual as if waving hello, and in all truth, a more honest and frequent gesture than friendly greetings between mother and son. Despite this, he didn't interrupt her. She had given him life, at the very least, and ingrained somewhere in that thick head of luscious hair resided a deep respect for women. Even his fanatical mother, whom he let rage on until she appeared to be at a resting point.
"How wonderful, my turn."
Sirius cleared his throat and stood, pausing dramatically for a sip of wine. When in Rome, eh?
"Yes. Yes. Yes. Before weddings, but after elopements. And if you touch her eyes, I'll set fire to your hair. I think that about covers all topics, hmm?" Because how else was Sirius to answer? He couldn't very well explain to his mother than in the future, he went to prison and they all, including Walburga, died alone. And wasn't that worth the risk in and of itself? That perhaps, even if he couldn't be saved, Walburga and Emmeline and whatever sprogs they might produce would at least have each other. And Harry.
Someone needed to look after Harry if the worst came to pass.
"Irregardless, Bugs. What's done is done. No changing it now."