"I ought to, somewhere," Sinclair says, making his way back out to the kitchen, heading straight for the cabinets. They're stocked, all of them, with cans of fruit and vegetables, preserved meat and spreads. It might occur to him to be embarrassed at having so much when everyone else in this city has so little, but it doesn't. Not when there's so much else eating up his thoughts.

About three cabinets down he finds a decent sized paper bag, which he takes down and empties of its contents (alcohol, mostly) and gives to Tenenbaum.

"Anything you like," he reminds her. "I've got some picking up to do before the kid gets back, so I'll leave you to it." Mostly true; if he doesn't do what picking up he can now, it'll only get worse when Jack returns.