Sirius wasn't even letting himself think of Harry -- a child he never knew existed until a moment ago, but who he already loved fiercely and knew he felt the exact same about in whatever world or year it was that Remus had come from. But he couldn't think on it, because it was already more than too much.
He didn't want to look up at Remus, because it would set him off even more and he wasn't sure he had more in him to give up right now. Instead, he just rubbed his wet hands through the dirt until there was a slight crust of mud there. No more wiping at his face now, he thought a little dully, even as he wiped them off on his jeans. He'd just have to deal with the blur. And maybe that was a good thing.
"You know?" He asked, biting at his lip and thinking back now to when he'd first saw Remus -- about that hesitance to even get close. Had it just been shock, or was there doubt there? Sirius wasn't sure how he could possibly live with the idea of doubt. Not about this. "How did we let this happen?" he asked, instead, because doubting was what had gotten them into this mess, apparently. And he wouldn't further it. If Remus said he knew, then he knew.
He'd never been so devastated before, and even the last time he'd been remotely sad he'd been able to find comfort in his friends. This time -- he was not sure that was a possibility at all. It didn't seem fair to ask of Remus, in any case.