"I prefer Your Highness," he grumped back. It wasn't the first time Sirius wanted to take a sweaty sock and shove it in James's mouth. The cheery slapdashery in his best mate's voice grated on the chalkboard of his soul. Or, it did when every loud noise made his pulse thud louder in his ears. Normally, Sirius wouldn't have minded it so much if he knew it wasn't being used to mock him a smidge.
Food was, among many other things, the last thing Sirius wanted. But another part of him wanted to put James to work somehow for being so awfully chipper in the morning. "Make me some pancakes and something to drink, you sonofabitch," ordered Sirius, draping himself over a section of couch without bothering to move from where he was sitting on the sand-gritty floor.