"Hardly," Remus shot back with a chuckle, rolling his eyes at George and watching as the boys were sent along with their purchases. He held the door open for them, nodded, then locked up again and flipped the sign as he'd been asked. Then with his hands in the pocked of a shabby plaid tweed trench coat, he made his way towards the Weasley and the counter.
"I have every intention of passing out in my own bed, thank you," he replied with a smug smirk. It was humorous that the boys seemed to forget one thing that he had over the two of them, aside from tolerance. He was a werewolf. It took so much more to affect him the way he affected others. It was unfair, yes, but if they weren't smart enough to realize that, only a lesson in it would teach them. "You should be thinking about where you'd like to be tucked in, m'boy. Because I have no intention of losing a drinking contest to a amateur."
He unbuttoned the front of his jacket, tucked it and fraying gloves off to show a deep brown sweater underneath with the collar of a white shirt barely visible under that. He was neatly shaved, which was easier to maintain at this time of month and the grey in his hair didn't look quite so grey anymore. "I presume you have the necessary effect?" he asked. "Or did you need me to bring the whiskey too?" he asked, sliding a crumpled pack of cigarettes from a pocket and tucking one between his lips, lighting it.