Arcturus had been enjoying conversation and a drink – tea this time, after the excesses of the previous night – with Alexander Hamilton. It was a leisurely afternoon, because while the headache that had plagued him in the morning had subsided, he still had that weary, heavy feeling. It was worth it, though, for the evening they'd had, which had been splendidly good fun.
He had just gotten around to the latest station news, 'Did you hear that Leyton has taken in-' when Philip came rushing through the door. His initial irritation at what seemed an ill-mannered disturbance vanished at once when he saw the look on the boy's face, and heard his urgent entreaty. Arcturus was on his feet before Philip had finished speaking, because he'd noticed at once that Sirius wasn't there with him. 'Show me,' he said. Then he glanced over at Hamilton in alarm, but didn't say anything more, just followed Philip back out to the garden, as quickly as he could.
At the sight of Sirius sitting there on the ground, his face red from crying, his arm twisted in that disturbing way, Arcturus gasped in horror. He'd thought the boys were safe, outside. They should have been. 'What happened?' he demanded, but this only brought fresh sobs from Sirius, and immediately Arcturus realised he was going about this all wrong. Sirius was hurt and upset and he needed comfort, not questions.
Heedless of his guests and what they might think, he dropped to the ground beside his nephew, and put a hand on his shoulder. 'Siri. No, Siri, it's alright. It's going to be alright. Don't fret. I'm here now.' His words were caring, gentle in a way not often seen from him, and the little boy leant in towards him, hiding his face in Arcturus' robe. Arcturus started to rub his back, lightly, like he'd seen Ella do back home when Sirius was much smaller.
Then he looked over at Philip Hamilton. 'Can you tell me what happened to him?' The words were much softer now, but they carried that same urgency.