Regulus couldn't have said anything more telling. The only reason Regulus didn't want him right that moment was, apart from being all riled up about who the fuck knew what, the fact that James wasn't touching him at that particular moment. Generously, James managed to abstain from rolling his eyes. He didn't want some sort of fight about his 'attitude'-- not when Regulus was finally, allegedly, willing to tell him what he wanted to know.
Well. Almost, it seemed.
And maybe it was entirely selfish, every single thing he did. At least he could admit that much. A bit of selfishness could do a world of good, when the alternative was bowing down at the feet of some psychopath.
"Serving my own interests certainly got a lot fewer people killed than serving someone else's," James returned, his tone a fair match for Regulus's, even if a flicker of doubt lit for a moment in the back of his eyes. Because there was still the matter of Regulus, wasn't there? They'd had plenty of death in their war, but that was different. That was surviving. And the Death Eaters were the ones who'd started the whole fucking war in the first place.
"You really think I expect you'd believe me if I told you?" he quipped. "Those holes in your head are there for a good fucking reason, and by your own sodding request. Besides, I asked you first." Reliable logic, that, and so incontestable that even children could discern its legitimacy. "So go on then-- why were you killed?"
Because of course Regulus hadn't died. Of course he'd been killed.