Date: 2017-01-02 12:21 pm (UTC)
isolemnly_swear: (oh you)
James flips Sirius his middle finger in a succinct gesture of exactly where Sirius can shove it. He does smile though, and maybe people would find it an odd reaction but he can't help it. For so long everything was ruined by the war that this kind of easy banter isn't something James ever really thought he'd have again. He can't remember the last time he sat around with Sirius like this, drinking and taking shots at each other. It's familiar and it's nice, even saddled with the idea that back home he's dead and Sirius is in Azkaban.

Kieren shifts to help pick up the cards and James spots the sketchpad, and exactly what kind of steady hand Kieren does have. He's surprised, to say the least, that Kieren has apparently been sketching him this whole time. James would be the first to boast that he's got the face of a model but he can admit he wouldn't have thought he'd be sketched by a bloke in Sirius's living room.

James points at it, a grin widening on his face. "What's this, then?" He plucks the sketchpad off the sofa before either of them can stop him, turning it this way and that. "Kieren doesn't think my face is so awful," he says to Sirius, completely ignoring their attempts to retrieve the cards.
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