A smirk drew across James's mouth. He wasn't exactly sure if there was a line about kissing and telling, but, well... that sort of thing only applied to birds, right? Maybe. To keep himself, and Sirius, safe, he just gave something of a shrug while Remuse stayed silent.
He was about to make a joke about maybe it was just that word traveled fast, but then Remus brought up Lily. James immediately didn't feel quite so hungry.
And then his stomach sort of bottomed out. I'm sorry. James had heard it before. And the question that followed. He knew that tone. That careful intonation. He'd heard it a hundred times, at the funerals for his parents. And part of James hated it that the same tone seemed to be merited now-- Lily wasn't dead. Except she was. Sort of. Not here, but in the real world. And if it had been his fault there, then maybe--
"She's not--" James began before he flinched back at the harshness in his own voice. It wasn't Remus's fault. And James thought he knew better than to hope, to subscribe to the delusion that maybe Lily had just run off and was ignoring everyone. Except, of course, apparently Harry's wife had done exactly that.
James didn't think there was a way to smooth over his abrupt change in mood, so he didn't really bother. He shot Remus an apologetic look and just shook his head. He didn't want to talk about it, but he didn't think saying so was a very good idea. Saying as much out loud only ever invited people to try to get him to talk about things. James didn't want to talk about it, he just wanted Lily to be back.
And he didn't want to think about the ways in which this time might have been his fault, too.