James is openly struggling, a little lost as he tries to figure out what angle he should go for here. It's with stunned silence that he watches Scorpius leave, before he moves to sit heavily on the arm of his couch, reaching up to scrub his face with both hands. Despite the casualness of the way he's seated, though, his shoulders are set, posture nervous: it's clear that he's mentally preparing himself for a fight, and a big one at that.

"So was I six months ago," he counters, and there isn't nearly the fire in his voice that he'd hoped would be. It's faltering a little instead, actually.