[He doesn't miss that little glimpse of her pants--perhaps he was, in part, looking to see if he could see them, sort of, idly, and here he's well rewarded. Red. What an interesting choice.

So he doesn't mind waiting out their argument. He smokes his cigarette, patient, nonchalant, and when Grigori eventually shoves off, Sirius touches his forehead like the nose-touch was a salute that he's just returning.

But he's got a grin for Sera, he's fully prepared for her.]

Does he really think you lack all sense and taste? And maybe you're blind as well--noseless--not sensitive to grease--

[He ashes his cigarette, carelessly.]

Charming, isn't he.