There came the faint realization that he'd be hearing about this from Antoine himself -- doubtless there'd be another shouting match which would be brought to an unsatisfying end by Augustin slamming out of the room and doing another one of the disappearing acts he'd been getting so good at lately -- followed by a sickening lurch of his stomach that indicated he'd gone too far with Aimé. The guilt, however, was almost instantly overridden by the anger that had yet to dissipate, and so when he rose from the bed and advanced on his little brother, it was with little of the physical constraint he'd maintained until now.
"You're still such a little boy," he whispered, a hand fisting in Aimé's nightshirt to hold him in place, "playing adult games. So grow up and see it for what it is, Aimé: whoring, pure and simple. I wanted you to be better than that." His voice has risen to a hoarse shout by the final words, which were punctuated by a quiet thud as he moved to shove his brother out of the doorway so that he could stride pass.