Basil didn’t know how to react to his brother’s thanks or amusement, so he didn’t. He ignored Atticus and took another sip of his tea. It was sad that they were such strangers now. Even as the other came to place a hand on his shoulder in what was, probably (?), an olive branch: Basil couldn’t stand the skin crawling feeling it gave him. He shrugged out from under it awkwardly and moved to place his saucer on the table. “We should leave her to rest, don’t you think?” He replied. “Maybe you ought to run to the apothecary now?” The suggestion was mild, but it still sounded forceful even to Basil. He didn’t want Atticus to think he was trying to get rid of him but, well, maybe he was.
In all truth, Basil really just wanted this interaction over with. He had a lot to untangle in his stilted emotions that, frankly, he’d been putting off until Merlin knows when. He hadn’t faced much of anything that had happened this month, from that awkwardness at the school to now his mother ailing and then this strange business with Atticus. All he wanted was to run upstairs, peek in on his mother, and then curl up in his old bedroom to think. Think through, and avoid, most of his emotions.
Thinking instead on his brother's quip about a haircut, Basil also frowned. "I have plans to get it trimmed in Hogsmeade tomorrow," he grumbled a little petulantly. He knew his hair was getting quite too long to be sightly but he hadn't had a lot of time to deal with it lately! And if there was one thing he was not good at himself, it was cosmetic or appearance-changing charms. Transfigurations, sure! He could turn an ugly petticoat into a gorgeous.. erm... frock or whatever, but aesthetic charms? Well that was women's work he supposed.