Zechariah straightened his posture, held his teacup casually, and looked utterly disinterested in Dr. Wells upon his inquiry.

For now, the sweat was on the inside. He had only seen an alienist once in court, but he remembered him quizzing the defendant extensively on his alcohol usage.

He was not on trial, but it lurked in every corner now.

“I use it occasionally, for sleep,” he said smoothly. “I travel a lot and it sometimes disrupts my routines.”

Always have an alibi.