He reached out and patted Michael's shoulder, the closest to a show of emotion he could bring himself.
"What I am is drunk," he said firmly, clearly even though his mind was blissfully numb with the alcohol. "Cass would have approved, I think. We were a lot alike."
He finished off what was in his glass, but didn't immediately reach for the Scotch again. "I'm going to miss him," he said quietly, not looking at Michael directly. Instead he studied the play of the flames in the crackling fireplace. "We were busy, had our own lives, but he was a good friend."