Before, the locks were safety and security. Now, they were something else entirely. When had that boundary become confused? When had the locks become friends, and the cage walls shields? He tried to think, but couldn't. There wasn't a fixed date. He simply hadn't noticed, watching things through the blurry sloshed glass of he whiskey bottle.
Stone cold sober, he wanted a drink. Not new, but when his mind sought a refuge from the frenzy, Daniel always thought of a drink.
"No." His voice was, perhaps, slightly rusted from disuse, but didn't have the depth one might imagine it would. He didn't approach her sharpness, but he was even worse at simulating calm with his voice than with his body. "I just didn't have a civil answer for that question."