Milo found himself, for once in his short two decades or so of living, completely serious with the matter at hand. Jokes and puns were not rushing to the forefront of his brain; he was not smiling or smirking; he was not bored by this conversation. His focus and attention was solely fixed upon Matt and Matt's words.
Family. For how many Death Eaters did that one factor decide between loyalty and indifference? How many were loyal to family before the cause, which seemed to be one and the same? Milo had always found it easier to go along with the wishes of his family than to try and go against the flow.
Milo was shaken from his reverie by his friend's accusatory tone. His head snapped up and, as Matt spoke, he rose his hands up to the height of his shoulders, his mouth gaping against this assault he had never faced in his long history. He swallowed. Everyone took for granted that Milo was apart of the group. He was never on time, he slept during meetings, he joked, he flirted with the women- but he was still somehow valued. How had no one questioned him before?
"I know I don't have to be here- it's just... It's just much easier. All you will lose is Bellatrix. I will lose my entire family- I have a huge family. My dad, aunt, uncle, step mothers, cousins, half siblings- it's not that simple, Matt." Matt offered shelter and Milo dropped his forehead onto his palms, rolling his neck in frustration. Matt spoke again and Milo snapped, shouting, "I know that, Matt!" He paused, his shoulders drooping, before throwing his hands down in disgust. He sat back, staring at Matt. "They're going to come after us. They're going to try to kill us. You up for that?"