Well that was a just a bit childish, now wasn't it? Exactly what Regulus's problem was, was a little hard to say. Oh, he had a good idea, but there were always about a dozen things Regulus could be cross with him about, and half the time, Regulus was all worked up over something that wasn't even his fault to begin with.
James took a few ambling steps out onto the street, flicking a bit of ash from the tip of his cigarette. He wasn't quite willing to go chasing after Regulus. And this-- this was precisely why it had always been easier to just grab Regulus. Because then he was stuck, and he couldn't sulk, and he couldn't turn tail and run, he just had to deal with James. James didn't know where Regulus got his aversion to confrontation. Sirius seemed to do just fine with it. Better than fine. But if anyone besides Mr. and Mrs. Black were aware of the depth of differences between the Black brothers, it sure as hell was James Potter.
But it wasn't like James was about to go launching into some... some.... whatever it was Regulus wanted him to say. Sure, maybe he and Regulus had other things to talk about, but the queue of Things They Needed to Talk About was getting a wee bit backed up. And he'd asked Regulus first.
Squinting a bit in the sun, James stuck his free hand in his pocket and let his gaze drift somewhat absently toward the shoreline. "So," he called, casually enough, apart from the raised volume. "Did I get you killed?"