"Oh, vodka! Sweet gifts of Mother Earth!" Razekiel hardly knew better than to proclaim his excitement without hesitation, his voice likely too loud for the aching stranger. The coyote wobbled hastily to the bottles that had been pointed out to him. Much to his dismay, however, they were empty and abandoned, and his shoulders sank quickly. "Bummer, man," was mumbled beneath his breath before the coyote quickly situated his glasses on his nose and turned back around.
Returning to his comrade, the hippie dropped to the floor quickly, crossing his legs and leaning back onto his palms. "So why the boozin', love? You got heartache, yeah?" Razekiel adopted a quick pout. "I drank myself silly with heartache once, man. It's a bad idea, man. You shouldn't do that anymore. Booze is meant to be enjoyed, man, and you shouldn't mess with the booze."
All of a sudden, his head began to whirl with dizziness, and the coyote put a hand to his twirling head and exclaimed through a grin, "Woaaaah, ah... hahaha! Groovy, man!" Clearly, it hadn't even occurred to him that he still hadn't even asked for the stranger's identity... nor presented his own. This was a common problem.
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