“You told me your favourite colour was brown," Remus said. Sirius looked at him very sharply, and he nearly baulked.
"Brown?" James grimaced next to them. "Like what kind of brown?"
Sirius' eyes dipped, as though he were trying to scan Remus from head to toe. Finally they came to rest on his face again, looking him right in the eye.
"A very specific kind...”
―
Motswolo,
The Cadence of Part-time Poets