The tapping is off-pace enough to be an irritant, another annoyance from an already pestilent source, but it should be easy enough to ignore. Should be. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Darlington latches onto the break in the rhythm, feeling the error in it, the order disturbed, a pattern almost calling to him to set right.

Something else flares in his chest at Danny, a thought--a shred of memory--there and gone before he can take hold of it. "It's Daniel," he says again. "From what I understand, it's not unusual to come to this place with little more than a name to put to your own face in the mirror. Can't say I like it, though."