George rolled his eyes, keeping himself from panicking only because he needed to keep his wits about him to get out. Whoever this bloke was, it wasn't Bill. For one thing, he was far too old. For another, his oldest brother wouldn't be so stupid as to think platitudes like that would work on him, and neither would treating him like a goddamned child. But, whoever he was, he was obviously under the same drugged influence as the werewolf.
"Right, you're Bill, and Fred's alive, and it's the future," he said, trying one more time to roll the werewolf to the side so he could get his wand. Fuck he needed a drink, and probably a joint, and to sleep for a week. And then he was never picking up insane but hot boys in bars again. He'd kick his own ass if he did.
"Look, whatever you two are on, if I sold it to you I'll offer you a full refund, but let me the fuck up, now," he growled, forgetting about playing nice as he started his struggles again. "And don't fucking mention Fred again, either of you, or I'll kill you both."