Baby, I Would Dig For Your Treasure

Magnus wasn't very good at being drunk. In fact, he was so bad at it that he hardly had anything to drink before he started to feel a little woozy. After reluctantly leaving the beautiful blue wolf, he stumbled around and tried not to watch the nauseating waves as they moved up and down the shore line. Could one get seasick from just watching the water? Who knows, but he was definitely feeling some kind of sick now.

There was a burning in his throat he kept trying to hold back, likely from just the bitterness of the alcohol, but with the combination of his stomach feeling just as sloshed as he was it wasn't working well. Maybe another drink would help? Yeah, maybe that'd work.

Taking another swig of the first bottle he found, it definitely did not work. Almost immediately it came back up complete with everything else that was in his stomach. Hopefully no one saw? He couldn't be sure, but he quickly, and poorly, covered it with some sand and scurried away, but not without grabbing another bottle. Who cares if it was this nasty crap that made him feel so bad on the inside? He also felt good! How could something make you feel so bad and so good at the same time?

Magnus stumbled over to where he saw another wolf digging around in the sand. He smirked, watching their ass sway with the motions of the digging and his eyes followed, drunkenly, every move they made. He couldn't help himself, if was just there. With a mental shrug of his shoulders (cause he'd probably fall flat on his face if he really shrugged) and another swig of the drink, he approached the wolf. "Nice moves, honey." He slurred, his vision too wonky to focus straight on the moving wolf.