At least Sirius wasn't so bad off that he couldn't think sensibly.
"Who?" James asked, the sound kind of resonating around his head, which was presently still in the fridge.
Grasping hold of the half-empty bottle of orange juice, returned his brain to more comfortably warm air. From the cupboard he procured the bottle of functional rum - the distinction between functional alcohol and other alcohol being that it didn't matter how lousy functional alcohol was, so long as it did the job - and filled the nearest cup with perhaps a little more juice than rum, but not by much.
See? There he was, capable of making a truly spectacular breakfast. Actually, the more he thought about, the better the idea seemed. Sure, it was technically before noon. But technically, he was on holiday. So that made it perfectly fine. So he snagged another cup and added another round of nearly equal portions of orange juice and rum. Collecting them both, he ambled over toward the couch. Handing one cup to Sirius, he slinked down to sit on the floor, his back leaning against the couch.
"Remus?" he guessed, though there was a bit of dubious confusion shading his tone, before taking a drink.