"...sorry," he supplied for her easily enough. Roderick could only assume that was what she was attempting to stammer out, at least. She was sorry? He was the one who had risked -- far too much for his nephew, had hit Grayson bloody Wilkes over the head with something rather large and heavy -- only to find him laying on the slab in front of Alice.
It occurred to him that he didn't exactly know who Caradoc's friends were -- no, who they had been -- and could only assume that Alice knew him well. He was fairly certain that was her name, at least. She was one of the ones on the list, one of the ones who Voldemort had particular trouble with. She didn't seem to be taking things well. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a fraction of a moment before taking a step closer to the girl and to Caradoc's body.
He should have known -- well, he had known that Voldemort had suspected his reports, he'd just been very confident in his ability to hide people. Apparently he hadn't hid them well enough, however. He felt irrationally irritated at himself.
"...yes, of course you are." He wasn't about to reach out and comfort her -- that would be awkward for the both of them -- but he considered it for just a moment.
Of course, he also considered oblivating the girl and just finishing her paperwork for her.
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