"No, no, my bad; was overexcited, I—bloody hell, Moony, you’re alive!" Alive Remus is, although admittedly he has seen better days. It has only been five years, but he looks like he has aged ten; still handsome as ever, of course, but with a smattering of new scars across his face, neck, and hands (the only places his skin is showing); he looks haggard and wan, his clothes hanging off his frame in the way Sirius recognises from during the war, when Remus was out doing who-knows-what and not eating at home. But he’s alive, and breathing, and  here , his eyes the same amber color Sirius remembers, his scent of old parchment and chocolate still discernible by Sirius’ keen dog nose.