Once upon a time, Daniel had cared about what kind of whiskey he poured down his throat. "Around five hundred dollars, I imagine. Give or take." He didn't notice the repositioning of the bottle for what it was. He was drunk already, and just then he wasn't thirsty for a twenty dollar shot. He reached into the stocking again, and found a card he had missed. Blinking at it, he turned it over. "Huh." From his expression, he didn't recognize the number, though it was a relatively local Manhattan code. He flipped the card again, and stared at the front. He stared at it for quite a long time, not moving, not blinking.