It was just getting dark outside - purples bleeding out into indigo and the air still smelled over apples. Bright, red, sun-kissed apples lay out in the grass of the back yard, red as her hair. It bounced so much (it wasn't natural for hair to move that much from just walking) as she came bounding in from the kitchen.
"Or did you two sods go out to that curry place without me?" Her slender arms were reaching out to encircle his neck and he wondered if she'd always seemed so fragile. A chuckle sounded off to James' left.
He glanced to his left.
Sirius was displaying the brown paper take-away sack with great flourish.
The corner of James' mouth tilted up.
Do you want me to make something to eat?
"What?" he asked absently, compulsively, quickly turning his head toward the source of the sound.
He blinked again. Pale light from an overcast sky pressed against the window, not night's darkness. This wasn't his home.
"Sure," he added almost immediately on the tail of his question. "Something simple."
James resisted the urge to press his palm to his stomach as he shrugged off his cloak. Too many potions in so short a time. Proper food had to be the cure for it, if for no other reason than it'd give his stomach something solid to work on. He'd almost been innately agreeable to the aim of the day's proceedings. His greed for that missing year had overcome his aversion to deal with Spain. Little had come from the day beyond a world of hurt and a bombardment of memories already in James' possession. Some good. Some ridiculously trivial. Some acutely painful. Now, all he could hope for was that it would stop.
His cloak was dropped over the back of a chair as he moved a bit further into the room. After toeing off his shoes he ran a hand through his hair. Looking over at Amarissa, content to see her as she ought to be.
"They... get you sorted out all right?" he asked, recalling in that, during some of his lucid moments, she'd been absent.