Regulus lets himself be led through the house, the stubbornly prideful set of his spine almost funny in light of his previous display. He catalogs everything they pass mentally, noting the layout so he can remember it in case he has to make any treks alone.

It's not until they're seated on the bed that something in him seems like it unravels again. He's careful enough taking off his shoes and setting them aside - it takes some doing, leg as it is - but tosses his cloak and under jacket onto the nearby chair unceremoniously. Being in a white shirt just makes him look more pale.

When Remus speaks he listens quietly, nodding once he's done. The silence stretches on further until he finally murmurs, "I'm sorry." It's quiet and subdued, but the worst part is he's very obviously genuine in it. Whether it's a conditioned response or not isn't clear, but the fact remains he believes he has things to be sorry for. He doesn't look at him as he says it, shoulders hunched.