Daniel hadn't even seen so much as a drop of anything since the hazy night when Shane first arrived at his door. Most of the times before that were a series of warm blurry images, and thoughts were impeded by a hollow ringing sound and a dry aftertaste on the back of his tongue. Ella was long gone, and the hallway was empty except for the package when he'd brought it in, and now it stood on the kitchen table in pieces, ribbon on the floor, lid against the wall. Daniel had stepped back to stare at the bottle and try to understand what it meant. He had grown into a paranoid, suspicious person in his years at Bellum Letale, and he wasn't likely to change. Mostly, staring at it just made him want a drink, nothing new but so much stronger than before.
Impulsively he moved forward and gripped the bottle around the neck. He found someplace to hide it, pushed all the way between cupboard and refrigerator, and tore the box up so it wouldn't make a strange shape in the trash. Afterward, he felt guilty, and the guilt just made him thirstier.