"I'm an orderly in a hospital," Dan said, his voice still slightly raspy as he spoke and entirely matter-of-fact, "I talk to the patients, I sometimes help push the dinner trolley round, and I mop the floors. I'm not saving any galaxies any time soon, Shep. And when I fuck up, because I always do, my job stops being mine and some other guy pushes the trolley round and mops the floors." He drank some more coffee after that. "I don't have anyone looking out for me, you know? It's just me."
"One day at a time," he repeated, and scrubbed at his face. He was approaching beard-scruffy, he realized, and should probably shave. But not when his hands still shook, or he'd slice his face open and that would just be too much to cope with. Funny, he mused, how he'd considered slicing through his arm a short while ago, but slicing his cheek open was a strict No.
"I'm not... I'm not going to do anything." Not here, anyway. He wasn't going to do that to his dad. The drinking was bad enough.