"Suppose I am. You must be loving it, me making a mistake." Mother would have not been best pleased. She was in a portrait so she must have died, as he suspected... he wasn't sure how he felt about that. Relief, oddly, was the first thing he felt. He could finally breathe, knowing he didn't have that to confront. "I might be a latebloomer but you've aged badly. All that drinking and partying caught up to you, did it?"

Explained the booze smell and the tired eyed. Did he ever sleep? Huffing, Regulus squirmed in his bonds. "Untie me. I wish to talk and I won't talk to you like this."