What the hell, who gave Sirius Black the right to have a smile that nice? Who gave him the right to make Remus question himself with alarming frequency the way he does? He's so disoriented and thrown off by all of this that the smile is almost dizzying. Remus shakes himself.

"Right, right, but if, say—say I wanted to take that nice ginger one in the corner upstairs and, well. I'd have to give her some gold, right?"